


The Life of the Spotless

by ToxicPineapple



Series: A Second Chance [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Companion-fic to Game of the Blackened, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feel-good, Hurt/Comfort, I literally write none of these characters on the reg except Amami cut me some slack, Ibuki + Ryoma + Mukuro focused but will yield to other characters on occasion, Multi, Post-Canon, Simulation, Switches Perspective, Third person because I'm not a walnut, actually yields to other characters every other chapter, but it'll come back to one of those three more often than the rest of the cast members
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-05-20 13:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: “It sucked,” Nekomaru agrees. “But at least I’m not a robot anymore! Man, that first shit I took after waking up here? The BEST!”“...robot?” Ibuki echoes, and usually she isn’t so slow, but she still feels groggy, and the memory of a rope on her neck is starting to become more and more pressing. “So… we did die.”---The victims of the killing games are put into the Neo-World Program to recover... but that all goes down the drain when the simulation is taken over once again and they are forced to watch the people who killed them being forced into another killing game. Recovery is hard when they're not sure if everything will be okay, and everyone in the simulation has their own demons to fight- for some it's definitely going to be harder than for others, but at least they all have each other.





	1. Prologue I: Would I lie to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki POV.

Rough, coarse strands of rope, biting her neck and crushing her trachea.

 

This is all Ibuki remembers of death. That and the bitter taste of morning breath, that which lingered even after she attempted to drown it down again and again with the water Mikan so graciously put in her room. Inside she was alright, normal, even (or as normal as was normal for Ibuki Mioda, which was not very) but on the outside, she was dull. Gullible, boring, the very kind of person she hated. Dead in the head, she would’ve said, and then giggled ostentatiously, for rhymes like that had always been something she enjoyed in life.

 

How odd, that sentiment, when Ibuki is conscious now.

 

She digresses, though, that when Mikan asked her to go to her knees, her heart fluttered with unfamiliar anxiety, and even as her legs complied against her will, she found herself wondering if this was an impromptu prayer session that the Ultimate Nurse was starting up, or if the sight of the dusty floor inside the _Titty Typhoon_ was going to be the last thing she ever saw.

 

Ibuki remembers nothing beyond that. She must have succumbed to oxygen deprivation. It doesn’t matter, though, because she was certainly dead soon after. Why Mikan suddenly stopped, perhaps she will never know. Or, perhaps she will, because as things are, she’s lying in a familiar bed with a rather unpleasant crick in her neck, and Heaven definitely isn’t supposed to hurt like this.

 

Well, maybe it does. Ibuki has never been, so she wouldn’t know. Though, maybe this is Hell? That would certainly be exciting. She might like the music better at any rate. (Is that blasphemous? Ibuki doesn’t know enough nor care to.)

 

For a moment she wonders why the bed is so familiar, so molded to the shape of her body, when she blinks blearily and realises that she is lying in the bed in her cottage. _That’s… weird._ Despite herself, she frowns, sitting up and taking in her surroundings. Bright pink and blue curtains, as well as an abundance of pillows…those she recognises. That chip bag, she should dispose of it, lies spilt on the floor, just as it was before. Sunlight streams through the curtains. It’s as though she never left.

 

Did she…imagine the Despair Disease? That would really be an odd development, but she’d be lying if she said she was torn up about it. Ibuki stretches her arms above her head, working out the pains in her back, and finds they disappear quickly. She could still use a good head banging, but that can wait. The morning announcement hasn’t come on yet, and she has no idea what time it is. Hajime could probably use some company. He’s awfully slow in the morning.

 

Swinging her feet out of bed, Ibuki slides into her shoes and wiggles her toes inside her sneakers, relishing the familiar feeling of the broken-in pair of shoes. That was a detailed nightmare, wasn’t it? Almost too detailed…she giggles into a hand, recalling how blatant of a liar Nagito became in sickness. He’s always been so annoying, but Ibuki felt bad for him, when he was like that. Of course, it was a dream, so maybe there’s nothing to feel bad about.

 

Too much serious talk in the morning! She needs to do at least fifteen minutes of vocal exercises before even beginning to delve into any of this. Ibuki leans forward and ties her shoes, triple knotting her left sneaker and only double knotting her right for some variety, then springs to her feet, jumping up and down a couple times to re-energise. It’s important to face the day with vigor, after all! She reaches up to the ceiling, her fingers not even coming close, before bending over at the waist and reaching for her toes.

 

She holds the stretch until her hamstrings beg for release and she has to straighten up again, rolling her shoulders and strolling to the door. Ibuki resolves to wake up Hajime first and foremost, then go see if Akane would like to hear about her dream. She’d tell Nagito too, but he’s so tiring to deal with, she thinks maybe she’ll pass.

 

Just as Ibuki opens the door and steps out, however, she finds herself coming face to face with a red-haired girl an inch taller than her. They’re close enough together for Ibuki to count her freckles, and she smells pleasantly of strawberries, but that’s not really what grips the musician’s attention.

 

“Oh, Ibuki, you’re awake!” Mahiru Koizumi smiles, with her one hundred percent alive face, as if that just makes sense. “I’m glad, I’ve been going around and waking everyone up, but I was worried that I’d have to go in and… anyway! How are you-”

 

“Uhhhh, on second thought, I’m going back to sleep, weird dream Mahiru, but-” Ibuki blurts, remembering all of a sudden that Mahiru is very pretty (and also probably very straight, disappointingly) even when she’s a dream. “It was great seeing you, Ibuki just doesn’t really want to rehash all that trauma from Peko’s execution, so-”

 

“Hey, hold on!” Mahiru stops her with a hand on her shoulder and Ibuki smiles to disguise the fact that she’s having a gay crisis. “I’m not a dream! I’m actually here! Togami is here too, you know!”

 

“Ibuki is in heaven?” Ibuki screeches, pulling away from Mahiru’s touch in shock. “Dang it! She was hoping that was a dream!”

 

“No! No, this isn’t- this isn’t heaven, Ibuki, just listen to me for a minute!”

 

“That means Mikan actually killed me! No! Why are all the cute girls murderers? Total wipeout, you-”

 

“Ibuki!” Mahiru cries, and maybe the use of her given name, though familiar to Ibuki who says her own name every other word, shocks some sense into her, because she falls silent. “We’re alive! Okay?”

 

Blinking, Ibuki mumbles, “This is a _really_ weird dream, then.”

 

“I mean it,” Mahiru groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “There’s a whole big group of us on the beach, I was just coming by to wake up the stragglers. Usami’s going to explain everything, but she said that we’re all alive, and she just needs everyone to be there so she can talk about it.”

 

“So, just so we’re clear…” Ibuki puts up a hand. “Ibuki did _not_ get strangled by Mikan?”

 

“Uhm,” Mahiru frowns. “I think maybe you did, but I can’t see why Mikan would do that…”

 

“Beats me. I was getting strangled, not really in the position to be hosting a survey!” Ibuki giggles. “That’s a good song title! Thanks for the inspiration, Mahiru!”

 

“O...Okay, uhm,” Mahiru reddens a little, and it’s quite noticeable because she is so very pale. “We should head to the beach, alright? Or, you should. I have a couple other people to check on.”

 

It’s quite like Mahiru to volunteer for that kind of a tedious task. Ibuki nods, eventually, because she supposes she doesn’t want to make the photographer’s job any more difficult, then closes the door behind her. Since she broke Hajime’s lock and all, it would be unfair for her to go around acting like she should keep her door locked, so she doesn’t bother with it. Besides, it’s easier that way. (Both for Ibuki to get in, and for possible murderers to get in, but that thought never really occurs to her.) Swinging her hands at her sides, Ibuki skips past all the other cottages, smiling fondly over at the one she knows to be Hajime’s before turning to head down to the beach.

 

There are… more cottages than Ibuki remembers, but perhaps she is imagining it. She will double check later, maybe even with Hajime! Mahiru told her to head to the beach, and considering that Mahiru isn’t dead, she figures that listening to that advice is a pretty good idea! Plus, seeing Byakuya again sounds awesome! She misses the guy, he was so cool…

 

When Ibuki arrives at the beach, kicking up sand, and spots the group of people Mahiru was no doubt talking about, but something is… off.

 

Well, Byakuya is there, as promised, looking imposing and also slightly uncomfortable in his white suit, and Nagito stands next to him with an understandably guilty expression on his face (Ibuki stops herself from grimacing at the thought of Nagito with that disease). Nekomaru and his considerable bulk stick out in the group like a sore thumb; Hiyoko is pressing close to him, perhaps subconsciously, and messing with the sleeves of her kimono, a deep frown carved into her features.

 

But everybody else on the beach is somebody who Ibuki has never seen before in her life.

 

Actually, no, Usami is there too, but she’s Usami, now, not Monomi, and where is Monokuma? Shouldn’t he be here? Ibuki counts ten other people who she doesn’t recognise, standing in two clumps in the bigger group, and furrows her brow, wondering what possible reason they could have for being here.

 

No need to act worried, though! There’s probably a great reason for this, and Ibuki bets she can get great song material from it! A grin easily settles on her features (she does love meeting new people) and she bounces forward, lifting her hand in a wave.

 

“Gooooooood nom-nom-nomming! Erm, is it morning right now?” She directs the question towards her friends, the ones she knows, and Hiyoko levels a glare at her, like she doesn’t really want to see her at all, but it is Byakuya who responds.

 

“Mioda, I’m glad to see you.” He smiles slightly, then drops the expression, as though it’s beneath him. (Uwaaa! So cool!) “I believe it’s around ten in the morning?”

 

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Nagito confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was nine thirty when I got here, and we’ve been standing here for a while. Usami,” he sounds surprisingly amiable when he addresses the robot, looking at her with what almost passes for respect. “Is that a good estimate?”

 

Usami glows, perhaps because she has been addressed. “Thank you for asking, Komaeda, it’s certainly ten in the morning! You slept in late, Mioda! But I don’t blame you, hawawa… I didn’t give an announcement this morning, after all… I thought that would be a little traumatising…”

 

“Man, I thought the bear was annoying.” One of the students who Ibuki doesn’t recognise, this one rather short, gremlin-like in appearance, and with messy purple hair, speaks up, staring at his fingernails like he doesn’t care. “And his kids were worse, but I really don’t like the rabbit, either.”

 

“At least she’s not a male!” A girl with long, dark hair snaps, chopping the air. Ibuki raises her eyebrows, watching the blue-clad girl kick up one of her legs, her skirt fluttering around majestically. (It’s rather magical.) “That, that’s right, isn’t it, uhhhh… U...sagi?”

 

“Usami,” the rabbit corrects gently. “And yes, your teacher is a woman, thank you for asking!”

 

Ibuki is bewildered, but she doesn’t lose her smile as she slowly makes her way over to her friends. She stops next to Byakuya, because she misses him, and also because his large presence makes her feel safer. Not that she was feeling particularly unsafe, but she still finds herself submerged in comfort standing next to him. It’s familiar, and rather lovely.

 

“So,” Ibuki taps her index fingers together, meeting the boy’s blue eyes. “Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Not here, stupid,” Hiyoko grumbles. “The only people here are the ones who died.”

 

“What?” Ibuki gasps, putting a hand on her chest. “Nekomaru died?”

 

“It sucked,” Nekomaru agrees. “But at least I’m not a robot anymore! Man, that first shit I took after waking up here? The BEST!”

 

“...robot?” Ibuki echoes, and usually she isn’t so slow, but she still feels groggy, and the memory of a rope on her neck is starting to become more and more pressing. “So… we _did_ die.”

 

“Duh! Pig barf killed us!” Hiyoko groans. “And I guess this dumbass was killed by the spy, for some reason.”

 

“I orchestrated my own death in the name of hope,” Nagito explains, like that’s perfectly reasonable, and Ibuki suddenly understands why Nekomaru has been inching away from him the past few minutes.

 

“...huh. Well, that’s…” Ibuki breaks into a smile. “Awesome! Mahiru was being honest when she said we aren’t dead, right?”

 

“Of course you’re not dead,” Usami fumes. “Would I lie to you?”

 

“Probably.” Byakuya says without hesitation.

 

“Uhm, I’m sorry, this is going to be rude,” another girl Ibuki doesn’t recognise, this one pale and freckled like Mahiru but grey-eyed and with dark black hair, steps forward, narrowing her eyes in Byakuya’s direction. “But Togami, why are you… fat?”

 

“Yikes,” a blue-haired girl who Ibuki _does_ kind of recognise intones, holding a hand over her mouth. “Right on the nose, Enoshima.”

 

“Ikusaba,” the girl with black hair corrects bitterly.

 

“Oh, sorry!” Her name is Sayaka! Ibuki suddenly remembers. They’ve met before, performing, though Sayaka has always seemed so serious, so firmly stuck in one thing, that Ibuki’s never really been interested in chasing more than a professional relationship with her. Still, it’s nice to have another familiar face here. “Force of habit, I guess?”

 

“Is it a problem, my being this size?” Byakuya asks flatly, and Ibuki puts her hands on her hips, glaring over to back him up. She will gladly be the nameless henchman of someone as cool as Byakuya, all the way! Still, she doesn’t take herself very seriously, and it probably shows, because Ikusaba just chuckles a little bit with a shake of her head.

 

“Nah, dude, I just- last time I saw you, you had like. A lot less body fat. And that was right before I died. Not long ago.”

 

“Maybe long ago,” Sayaka corrects. “We don’t know how long we were dead before we were brought here.”

 

“Haaah,” Usami sobs, rubbing her eyes. “You’re all so negative!”

 

“I don’t think it really counts as negativity if it’s true.” The purple-haired gremlin (Ibuki wonders if rat is a better descriptor but decides that that is a little unfair; he’s kinda cute, in a demon kinda way) sneers. “Unless you mean to tell me I didn’t just get my guts crushed out by a press.”

 

“Not just…” Usami whimpers.

 

“Gross! Too much detail!” Ibuki squeals, shaking her head fervently. “But Mahiru said to wait for everyone to be here so we shouldn’t ask questions yet! Maybe we should just-” she pauses, wondering what to say. “Uhhh… introduce ourselves!”

 

Nagito smiles thinly. “I don’t know if the other Ultimates here will want to be introduced to us, considering that we are everything that they, as symbols of hope, stand against.”

 

“Oh, he's crusty,” the gremlin boy whispers.

 

“Yeah, I don’t know what your damage is,” Hiyoko frowns, crossing her arms. “You said something about Ultimate Despair, but I don’t even know what that is, so how could I _be_ it?”

 

“Wait!” One of the other boys who Ibuki doesn’t recognise, this one with white hair and a large cowlick poking up from it, holds up a hand. Actually, she’s pretty sure he's a robot, not a human. “I thought you said there was no such thing as Ultimate Despair!” He turns an accusatory glare onto a girl standing next to him, this one pretty, with glasses and blue hair. She looks like Sayaka, but her vibe is more muted. Ibuki’s definitely into it!

 

“Ohh, I may have fudged that detail,” the girl admits. “And a couple others. Ouma isn’t one, though, that was plainly the truth.”

 

“...despair?” The rat boy, maybe named Ouma, repeats blankly. “Harukawa said something about despair, too, before she shot me. What are you on about?”

 

“Pleeeaase,” Usami moans, tears defying logic as usual and dripping from her weird robot eyes. “We don’t need to talk about despair, because we’re here to cultivate your hope!”

 

“Where is Saihara?” The other robot, the vaguely humanoid boy, suddenly blurts. “He put an end to the hope and despair nonsense, didn’t he? Is he okay with this?” The boy advances, stepping closer to Usami. Ibuki watches with interest, wondering where this is going. “I know what this is. I remembered it, with those Flashback Lights. This is the Neo-World Program. But we’re all dead. Right? Everyone here, except for Shirogane and myself, was one of the victims. That’s the pattern.”

 

“Victims?” Ouma parrots. “Wow! It’s just like a heartless robot to come to that conclusion!”

 

“No.” The robot shakes his head. “I know it to be true.”

 

“What’s going on?” Mahiru’s voice, crisp and distinct before Ibuki’s sharp ears, floats over, and the musician turns, watches the red-haired girl approach with three other people. But Ibuki pays the rest of them no mind in running over and latching onto the photographer’s arm. “Ibuki, do you know-?”

 

“Is that everyone?” Usami leaps into the air, twirling her stick. (Her magic stick, Ibuki thinks, the one Monokuma broke in half.) “Then we can begin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, this story is being written in tandem with my brother's Game of the Blackened. it's the first part of the series, you should read it alongside this one. I'll ideally get caught up and start posting updates whenever he does so you can look forward to sporadic updates once I'm caught up because my brother doesn't deal in update schedules ;)
> 
> in other news I'm obsessed with Ibuki Mioda, what a great wife
> 
> not much to say this time, kick back and enjoy, I guess haha
> 
> comments are appreciated as always but read my brother's fic! especially if you're a Kiyo stan uwu


	2. Prologue II: We get it, you're crusty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiyoko POV.

Hiyoko frowns at the rabbit, but holds her tongue; plenty of mean respites and comebacks are building within the confines of her mind, but she wants answers more than she wants to snap at Usami.

 

Usami fluffs her sailor skirt, landing behind the group of students so that she’s facing the ocean, rather than standing with her back to it, and smiles proudly. “I’ve missed doing that, awh…” she rubs her stick, cooing to it, almost, and Hiyoko snorts, but again bites her lip, attempting to maintain her silence. That stupid robot hasn’t said anything yet, so she needs to shut up for a moment.

 

“Get to the point, yeah?” A tall, green-haired boy speaks up, from where he is standing next to Mahiru and that dummy musician, Ibuki. “I’m really not sure what’s going on here, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s confused.”

 

“Hahhh, sorry, Amami,” Usami ducks her head, but perks back up a moment later, the positive energy flowing out of her once again. _Gross,_ Hiyoko thinks. “Anyway! I’m here to welcome you all to another Ultimate field trip!”

 

“Sure, since the last one went wonderfully,” Hiyoko is unable to stop herself from snapping, then decides to roll with it, feeling the eyes of the other students fall on her. “C’mon, Monomi, Usami, whatever- are you really too dumb to come up with something else? Just admit you and your buddy Monokuma kidnapped us again! Or maybe this is Hell…”

 

“What? No, this isn’t-” Usami starts, but only to be cut off again.

 

“Are you sure?” The purple-haired boy, Hiyoko can’t be bothered to remember his name, smiles sweetly, and she raises an eyebrow in his direction. “‘Cause, the way I was acting before I died, I’m pretty sure I’d go to Hell! And there’s no way I’m not dead, unless you want to tell me that I somehow survived getting crushed by a press!”

 

“Ouma, let her speak,” the other dumb robot, the kinda human-looking one with white hair, sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure she’s going to explain everything.”

 

Seeing as Usami looks far more grateful than she ought to, Hiyoko almost says something else, but Mahiru manages to catch her gaze, and the look shot in her direction is so stern, the traditional dancer holds her tongue. She makes a mental note to run over and give Mahiru a big hug later. She didn’t do it when they first saw each other, at the risk of one of the others laughing at her, but now that the photographer is standing over there with stupid Ibuki on her arm, Hiyoko can barely contain herself.

 

The rabbit continues. “A-Anyway, you’re all here to rest and recover from the ordeals you all just underwent! While you’re on Jabberwock Island, please spend time getting to know your friends and forming close bonds with each other so that you can be filled with love and hope!” Usami looks way too happy; it’s gross.

 

“I’m all for that,” a white-haired girl with dark skin and an odd, skimpy top speaks up, leaning forward with a pleasant smile on her face. She’s standing next to the robot and the boy with purple hair, but is weirdly separate from the group. “But God is telling me to ask a little more… please specify what you mean by ordeal. You do mean the killing games, yes? Being killed? Uh, Angie was killed, right?” Oh, ew, she’s one of those people who refers to herself in the third person, like Ibuki. Everyone here is so dumb.

 

“Damn right you were! I bet Shit-guji killed you so he could pretend you were his sister and fuck your body!” A crude looking blonde girl bursts into laughter at her own lewd joke, and all the teens standing around her cringe away. Hiyoko likens her to Nagito, in her mind, and subconsciously presses closer to Nekomaru. The coach angles his body towards her, perhaps as a shield, and somewhere in her mind she is forced to admit that the gesture makes her soft, but on the outside, Hiyoko just sticks out her tongue.

 

“You’re so nasty, Iruma!” The purple-haired boy giggles. “Dying really hasn’t changed you from the vulgar slut you were before, huh?”

 

“Hey! Boys shouldn’t use that language!” Mahiru chastises.

 

“Yeah! Listen to Mahiru!” Hiyoko cheers, but only because it’s Mahiru. Had it been somebody else, like, maybe Byakuya, she probably would’ve just laughed.

 

“Ouma!” The over-dramatic brunette in the blue dress cuffs the purple boy in the back of the head, eyes flashing. “You’re making the girls here uncomfortable, stop it!”

 

“No words for Iruma? Geez…” the boy’s eyes well with tears, and a nervous look is exchanged between most of the students, but the girl in the blue dress just glares harder.

 

“Awh, you guys aren’t here to fight!” Usami protests. “You’re here to make friends, and cultivate ho-”

 

The other robot snaps, “We don’t want your hope! Saihara, Harukawa, and Yumeno sacrificed their lives for real hope, not this stuff that you guys are always talking about!”

 

At the words real hope, Nagito perks up, and Hiyoko stifles a groan. “Look,” she mutters. “You’ve caught the attention of the gross goblin. Now he’ll never leave you alone.”

 

“Real hope, huh?” Nagito, predictably, looks at the robot expectantly. (The boy- boy?- begins to sweat, which shouldn’t be possible for a robot.)

 

“Oh, Kiibo is an authority on those types of things!” The plain-looking blue-haired girl smiles. “He’s the Ultimate Hope Robot, you know!” And _that_ is definitely the last thing to say to Nagito, Hiyoko thinks, because now that poor robot is going to die and Nagito will be the cause. 

 

“Wait, what do you mean Yumeno sacrificed her life?” The long-haired girl who cuffed the purple one on the back of the head startles, a look over horror flashing over her features. “You don’t mean that Yumeno is-” but before she can continue and everything erupts into chaos, somebody else yells out.

 

“Please listen to Usami!” This boy, one with black hair, rather voluptuous eyebrows, and red eyes, has a very obnoxious voice, and Hiyoko sneers, because she already hates it. “There is clearly more important information she has to disclose, and this outburst is very disrespectful!”

 

“Thank you, Ishimaru,” Usami begins, but Hiyoko feels a tickle of rage in her gut and starts forward, her lips fixed in a cruel expression.

 

“Yeah? Why should we respect that bitch? She just sat by and let us get killed! You know, a when that nurse cunt was slitting my throat, she just stood by and let it happen. I don’t think there’s so much as a small chance she wasn’t working with that stupid bear, Monokuma. At least he was upfront about his intentions. I’m not participating in another dumb killing game, you know!” Well, the voices go silent, at least, but Hiyoko is still fuming, because really, who does that dummy and his eyebrows think they are? To tell them to respect that _stupid_ rabbit-

 

“Hiyoko,” This is Mahiru who speaks, her voice clear and sweet, and a hand falls on her shoulder. When Hiyoko looks back, Ibuki is no longer hanging on her arm; she lingers next to the tall boy with green hair, smiling sadly. The traditional dancer forces herself to meet Mahiru’s eyes, swallowing down what remains of her outburst to hear what her friend has to say. “It wasn’t Usami, you know- at least, I don’t think so. I don’t think she’s competent enough to be involved in something like that. Besides, Monokuma isn’t here right now, so I don’t think that’s going to happen again.”

 

Byakuya speaks now, pushing his glasses up and leveling a cold stare right into Usami’s face. “I am inclined to agree with Koizumi, but I must ask you if this is the truth, Usami. Are we going to be forced to kill each other again?”

 

“...no, I made sure of that.” Usami mutters. “It won’t be like… the other…” she trails off, then shakes her head, snapping out of it almost immediately. “Anyway! Get to know each other! Your teacher has somewhere to be, but if ever you need anything, just shout, and I will appear! Love, love!”

 

“Wait.” The voice is so low that Hiyoko is half expecting somebody of Nekomaru’s stature to be the speaker, but it’s a boy so short she almost doesn’t see him behind Ibuki. (He’s even shorter than Hiyoko, she thinks gleefully.) His black and blue hat is pulled over his eyes, but what Hiyoko can see of them are cold, and so dark they’re almost black. “You didn’t explain how we’re alive. This isn’t Heaven, I’m sure of that much, because there’s no way I’d be there, but I fail to see a reason why somebody as devout as Yonaga would end up in Hell, so I’m forced to believe that we aren’t dead.”

 

“The mere insinuation offends me,” the white-haired girl, Yonaga, probably, says this with a very sweet smile.

 

“I need an explanation,” the short boy continues.

 

“U-Uhm,” Usami sweats, at this, glancing back and forth like she doesn’t know what to say. “I- uhm- gotta go, but- make sure to make friends with each other! You’ll be able to go home when you all get as close as family!”

 

“You can’t just-” Byakuya starts, but then the rabbit twirls in the air and disappears, leaving the group to stand awkwardly with the first half of the progeny’s sentence hanging in the air.

 

“Uh, so,” the other blue-haired girl, probably an idol of some sort, bites her lip, looking around. “What now?”

 

“Obviously,” eyebrows boy begins with a wide smile. “We make friends, as Usami instructed! We are here to recover, after all!” His smile wobbles a little bit as he glances quickly at the short girl standing some distance away from him- a timid looking girl with chestnut coloured hair and a green dress- but he pulls away his gaze and claps his hands together, looking as though he’s trying to maintain the air of confident happiness. Hiyoko smirks a little, because she sees right through it, but then her smile quickly falls when she realises she’s been doing the exact same thing with Mahiru.

 

The green-haired twink laughs slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a little wary of trusting that rabbit, to be honest, especially after what…” he pauses. “Uhm, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?” Hiyoko realises he’s talking to her and glares hard at him, trying to read his expression. (He’s absurdly relaxed, but Hiyoko knows masks enough to identify that he’s wearing one. She can’t see beneath it, though. She’s not _that_ good, at least not with strangers.)

 

“Who’s asking?” She asks sharply, looking over at him. “Last time Usami pulled the whole make-friends bullcrap, we ended up being forced to kill each other. I’m not gonna pretend to be nice.”

 

“That’s fair.” The green boy chuckles. “I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself, probably. I’m Rantaro Amami. And you’re right, that she probably can’t be trusted, but it might be easier if we try to get along.”

Damn it. He has a point. Avocado, one, Hiyoko, nothing. She doesn’t dislike his attitude, though. He has a soothing, kinda brotherly vibe about him, and he also sounds a little like Hajime, which definitely helps out too. (Not that Hiyoko would ever say that to Hajime.) “Hiyoko Saionji,” she concedes, feels her glare lose some of its edge. His smile turns a little more genuine, though not nearly enough to make her think it’s real, and Hiyoko decides that she doesn’t dislike him. Yet.

 

“So, maybe…” Mahiru rubs her chin. “We should follow Hiyoko and Amami’s example and introduce ourselves? I know all of you already know me, because I got everybody up, but… you said we’re all victims, right? What does that mean?” She addresses the robot when she says this, tilting her head slightly, and Hiyoko turns her head to look at him.

 

The boy rubs his chin in thought, almost mirroring Mahiru’s example, then looks back at her with a chagrined smile. “Well, within the realm of the killing games. Everyone here was killed by one of the blackeneds, in one of them.”

 

“Wait,” the fowl-mouthed blonde girl, the one the purple boy referred to as Iruma, speaks up suddenly, startled. “Ouma, _you_ got killed? Of all people? But- but I tried, and you didn’t-”

 

“Yeah, it sucked.” Ouma is definitely the purple boy’s name; he shrugs when he’s addressed, looking at his fingernails. “Momota did it.”

 

“Really?” Rantaro’s eyes widen at this. “Momota? I’m surprised…”

 

“Me, too! He was super violent, too, killing me with a hydraulic press! Can you believe he was secretly a psychopath the whole-”

 

“He’s lying.” The robot interjects smoothly. “Momota only killed him at his behest; furthermore, he only did it because otherwise Harukawa would’ve been executed.”

 

“Maki, you mean, the assassin?” Yonaga is still smiling, but her saccharine expression is almost bitter now as she tilts her head to the side. “God told me this would happen, you know.”

 

“Assassin?” Rantaro mumbles. “Yikes… Harukawa was…”

 

Hiyoko huffs. They’re really getting way too absorbed in their own affairs. Perhaps spurred by hearing her do as much, Mahiru shifts a little, and speaks again, her voice cutting through all the others. “Hey, wait a minute! We still need to talk to the others here, y’know? From other killing games. I think there are people from three? We all have common ground, since we were all victims in our killing games, so… we should work together, to figure out what’s really going on.”

 

“She’s right.” The black-haired girl from earlier, the one with freckles who asked Pig Hands why he’s fat, nods seriously, crossing her arms. “Even if what Usami said is correct, and we won’t be forced into another killing game, there’s no reason for us to start letting our guards down. Even still, I think we’re all on the same level, right now. We should try to-”

 

“That’s rich,” Nagito sneers, an abnormal amount of venom dripping from his voice. “Coming from the Ultimate Despair.” Hiyoko groans, because again with that stupidity, but the black-haired girl just pales, averting her gaze. She looks guilty, almost, and it’s weird, because she seems like the type of person to have a really good poker face. “You don’t have any right to be doubting this simulation, you know,” the stupid hope-weirdo continues, a creepy smile appearing on his face. “This simulation was manned by the Ultimate Hope himself, you know… you ought to show some respect.”

“Abstract words like hope and despair aren’t the kind of things you give Ultimate talents to.” The short boy mumbles, pulling his hat down even further over his eyes. “I don’t think there’s any way to be ‘Ultimate Hope’ unless it means shoving your ideals down other people’s throats. But for what it’s worth, Koizumi is right. We need to be on the same page.”

 

“At least we’re in agreement about that,” Eyebrows McGee smiles, a smaller smile this time, and clears his throat. “Well, I will start, then! I am Kiyotaka, the Ultimate Moral Compass!”

 

“Should we say pronouns and how we were killed, too?” Ouma asks sweetly, batting his eyelashes.

 

“No, that feels like too much information,” Mahiru laughs nervously. “You guys already know, I guess, but I’m Mahiru Koizumi, the Ultimate Photographer.”

 

The robot clears his throat. Does he have a throat? “I am K1-B0, the Ultimate Robot… please, call me Kiibo, though.” He smiles thinly, and adds, “I’m not really the Ultimate ‘Hope’ Robot, by the way… I’m in agreement with you, Hoshi, that that kind of talent is really… odd.”

 

“Hii, hello, hi!” Ibuki, annoyingly, is full of energy as she bounces up and down, grinning around and everyone. “I’m Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician! Also, is anybody else really in the mood for Chinese donuts? I could use some of those, right about now.”

 

“They’re not that sweet, though, the name donut is really misleading…” the blue-haired idol girl muses, then perks up, a sweet smile appearing on her face. (This one as well, Hiyoko thinks, is faked.) “It’s nice to meet everybody, I’m Sayaka Maizono, the Ultimate Pop Sensation! I wish this could all be under different circumstances, but…”

 

“Dying sucked, huh?” The timid girl with chestnut coloured hair smiles a little bit, stepping forward so she can be seen better. “I’m… Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer… you all seem really nice, so, I’m really looking forward to working with everyone!”

 

“I think nice is an awfully kind way to describe Komaeda,” Ibuki points out earnestly, and Hiyoko notes the use of his surname. (Well deserved, though, that guy is kookie as hell.)

 

“I am Nekomaru Nidai!” Nekomaru yells, which is totally unnecessary, but okay. “The Ultimate Team Manager!”

“Yoo-hoo!” The white-haired girl tilts her head to the side, smiling a lopsided smile. “My name is Angie Yonaga, and I am the Ultimate Artist! God is telling me good things about most of you, so I am happy to be in your presence! Remember,” she adds, and her face darkens, though that unnerving smile remains. “You must be grateful to God, now, because it is through his grace that you are given a second chance, yes?” Hiyoko decides she likes Angie, even if the God thing is a little gross, because that scary look is on point.

 

“Awwh, you guys can’t all go before me, I’ll get overshadowed!” Ouma complains, then clears his throat. “I am Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader! I can’t believe I’m still stuck somewhere with a bunch of losers, even after I went through all the trouble of dying… this really sucks.”

 

“I know how you feel,” Hiyoko groans, rubbing her forehead. “The upside of being killed by that greased pig was that I at least got away from those dipshits, but now look at me… anyway, like I said, I’m Hiyoko Saionji, the Ultimate Traditional Dancer.” She doesn’t say anything else, but she knows that the look of interest she’s giving Kokichi right now is being reciprocated, if only from the odd smile that quirks his lips.

 

“Ouma! Stop scheming, and don’t insult all the beautiful girls here!” The girl in the blue dress yells. “I’m not going to introduce myself to the degenerate males, but to the girls- I’m Tenko Chabashira, the Ultimate Aikido Master! I’ll gladly throw any male who tries to be gross or male-like if any of you asks!”

 _She’s a bit dim,_ Hiyoko thinks. There’s no way the boys here didn’t hear her introduction, seeing as they’re all standing right here… plus, who still calls them _males?_ It’s such a weird term for the guys who are standing right there. Super scientific and boring. Only nerds, really, but Tenko doesn’t strike her as much of a nerd. Probably not a very good subject for picking on, though, bummer.

 

“Even though none of you really deserve to be graced by my wonderful presence, I’ll introduce myself next!” The slut- uh, Hiyoko means, blonde girl, speaks next, touching her chest as though attempting to bring attention towards her bust region. “The name is Miu Iruma, and I’m the Ultimate Inventor! And yeah,” she adds, gesturing wildly at her chest. “These are real, baby.”

 

“God, what a whore.” Hiyoko hears herself snap. “Do you get off on acting so slutty with strangers?”

 

“Eeee! Whore? Slutty?” Despite her supposed indignation, she really doesn’t seem… all that offended. In fact, Miu almost seems to enjoy… the… oh, for Heaven’s sake, that’s absolutely disgusting. Hiyoko scrunches up her face.

 

“As much as that interaction is thrilling to me,” the other fatso here, this one with an odd, spiky hairstyle and cloudy glasses, smiles pompously, crossing his arms over his own large chest. “I’m afraid I must cut you off for my own introduction! I am Hifumi Yamada, the Ultimate Fanfic Creator!” Wow, what a lame talent… is Hiyoko really expected to make friends with these people? They’re- they’re actually _worse_ than the people she was with before!

 

“Uh… sorry if my introduction is a little plain.” The other blue-haired girl, who is indeed plain, smiles. “I’m Tsumugi Shirogane, the Ultimate Cosplayer… I’ve dressed up as all of you, it’s nice to actually meet you guys in person…”

 

“Creepy, but go off.” Mumbles the black-haired girl who Nagito called ‘Ultimate Despair’. She clears her throat, then, frowning. “Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier.” She doesn’t say anything else, and Hiyoko is grateful, because those long introductions are really obnoxious.

 

“Ryoma Hoshi,” the short boy in the hat from earlier speaks up, looking down at the ground. “I used to be known as… the Ultimate Tennis Pro. But those days are long behind me.”

 

“Quit with the negativity,” Rantaro chastises, frowning. “You’re still a tennis pro. Uh,” he adds, looking at everyone. “You guys heard my name, but… I don’t remember my talent, I’m sor-”

 

“No, that’s wrong!” Kiibo interrupts, and Rantaro stops talking, eyebrows raised. “Sorry, Amami, but I had to. It is imperative that we trust each other, so I don’t feel bad in saying that you’re the Ultimate Survivor. It’s a lie, isn’t it, that you forgot?” The apparent survivor opens and closes his mouth, startled, but eventually just stays silent, nodding his head. At this, the robot sighs, which _shouldn’t be possible because robots don’t breathe,_ and looks away. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I just don’t think there’s anyone here you need to be afraid of. Besides,” he adds, then glares at Tsumugi, who is still standing near him. “We figured out who the mastermind was already.”

 

...mastermind? It’s a word that Hiyoko feels like she should be accustomed to hearing but can’t place; she frowns, looking between the robot and the cosplayer and trying to figure out what Kiibo is talking about. With what little information she has, however, there aren’t any good conclusions she can come to, so she just has to wait for someone else to speak.

 

“Wait!” Tenko bursts out. “Shirogane? You were the mastermind? Of all people?”

 

“I know, I’m rather plain, aren’t I?” Tsumugi smiles, guiltless, and shrugs. “That worked in my favour, I guess.”

 

“That’s hardly the issue here.” Rantaro points out, and strangely, he sounds rather cross. “Shirogane,” he starts, and Hiyoko notes how stern his gaze is. “You were the mastermind? Why?”

 

“Not only that.” Kiibo speaks up again, as though having been waiting for the opportunity to share these things. “But she killed Amami and executed Akamatsu for no reason!”

 

“Huh, huh?” Angie smiles eerily, leaning so far to the left she nearly looks like she’s going to break in half. “You executed Kaede for no reason, Tsumugi?” She leans to the right now, fast enough Hiyoko is wondering how she doesn’t get whip lash. “Why? Does that not break the rules of your game?”

 

“My game?” Tsumugi echoes, like _that’s_ the problem. “Oh, no, it wasn’t my game, it was Enoshima-senpai’s. And I’m afraid I had to, otherwise the killing game never would’ve started, y’know?”

 

“O-Okay,” Mahiru speaks up, and her voice sounds strained. “There’s a lot to unpack in that, but can we- can we finish introductions, maybe?” And Hiyoko wants to respect Mahiru, but she actually thinks she’d rather keep hearing about this… she wants to know if Tsumugi here needs to be tied up somewhere. Maybe alongside Nagito. They both seem kind of fucked up in the head.

 

“I am Byakuya Togami.” Byakuya speaks, as though reminded by Mahiru’s words, and she shoots him a grateful smile in response. “The Ultimate Affluent Progeny. Whatever comes next, I assure you all, I will guide everyone to the other end of the situation, as it is my responsibility to stand above others.”

 

“Geez,” Mukuro mumbles. “What happened to you after I died, man, that made you gain so much weight and become so much more decent? Did you get an intense depression and then turn into a good human being?”

 

“So harsh,” Sayaka comments, but Hiyoko notices that she doesn’t sound very scornful.

 

“I’m truly flattered and humbled to be in the presence of so many wonderful Ultimates.” Nagito, predictably, doesn’t speak until everyone else has done so, and when he does, he does it in that obnoxious self deprecating way he always does. The smile he’s wearing is weird, like he’s looking at a room of his favourite actors. Though Hiyoko does observe that he loses that look whenever he looks at her or any of the people he’s already been acquainted with. (Also, Mukuro, strangely.) “My name is Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student… but compared to all of you, my talent is really nothing…”

 

“Hey- don’t say that!” Chihiro exclaims, but then falters a little bit, looking embarrassed. “You shouldn’t be so down on yourself, but… that’s also Naegi’s talent, you know, and he… was really the sweetest.”

 

“He was, wasn’t he.” Sayaka doesn’t say it like it’s a question, though- and she looks rather troubled, as the words come out of her mouth. Hiyoko takes mental note of it, deciding to look into it to see if it’s something she can make fun of the idol for in the future.

 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” Nagito apologises immediately, and Hiyoko cringes away, because _God,_ he’s sticky. “I didn’t mean to insult Naegi-senpai in any way… I would never say something bad about somebody with such strong-”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid he’s always like this.” Byakuya sighs, shaking his head.

 

“Who are you, a filthy despair, to be apologising for m-”

 

“OKAY!” Kokichi blurts, tossing his hands in the air. “We get it, you’re crusty, shut the fuck up, bottom, the adults are talking right now!” And just like that, Nagito is silent. Hiyoko wishes she had that super power. “What do we do now, Koizumi? Hmm? Should we just hold hands and sing Kumbaya?”

 

Mahiru considers his question, though it seems a bit like he wasn’t being entirely serious. Then, after a pause, she responds, shrugging. “Well, I guess now we try to figure out everything that happened to us, within our killing games, so that we can figure out everything that came afterwards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt I'll have time to get out a third chapter before my camping trip later this week (I'll have to pack tomorrow, after all) but yeah this boy is here now
> 
> I absolutely LOVED writing as Hiyoko, she is so much fun, my gosh. I always write as the kind characters so people like Hiyoko and Kokichi are an absolute hoot
> 
> I sound like an old lady hey what's up it's ur grandma ToxicPineapple here
> 
> anyway hope y'all enjoyed. read my brother's fic. do it. do it you won't. no balls
> 
> comments are great but u know what's greater? his fic.


	3. Prologue III: What else is going on?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoma POV.

Ryoma closes his eyes, rests the back of his head against the statue he’s already leaning his back upon. It was a short trip here, to the main island, and actually pretty easy to get to. He’s sure he could’ve found it just walking around by himself, but that’s irrelevant, because they all still have Monopads, and just like before, those Monopads have maps of the five islands.

 

Well, student handbooks, they’re apparently called, but Ryoma finds that stupid because he has no idea what Hope’s Peak Academy even is. Much less likely are the odds of him being a student there. Nonetheless, it seems that the vast majority of people on this island call them handbooks, not Monopads, so he supposes he should get used to it. He might confuse people, or offend Usami (which Tenko did, when she called her handbook a Monopad) and he’s never been the kind of person to try to stir trouble.

 

A groan escapes the former tennis pro’s lips and he opens his eyes, staring up at the clear blue sky. There are a number of fluffy, white, cotton candy clouds floating above his head, but he has no more proof of their validity than he had at the Ultimate Academy. Then again, at the Ultimate Academy, he wasn’t really in the position to be questioning the validity of things. He let himself die, after all.

 

But maybe he is now? At any rate it seems like he’s got some time on his hands, because if what that rabbit woman wants is for him to get close to the other students in order to leave, she’s going to have to wait a long time, because Ryoma doesn’t intend on letting anybody get near him. He’s sure they’re all wonderful people- that was the case before and he has no evidence to the contrary; certainly, none of them are mass murders who used their abilities to the aims that he did- but letting people get close… always ends badly. He apparently died rather early on in his killing game, but if Kiibo was being honest with everything that went down… well, Ryoma can’t say he was wrong about the consequences of allowing people to become important to you. Nobody survived, according to Kiibo. Isn’t that just wonderful.

 

Before Ryoma gets too far down _that_ particular train of thought, though, he shakes his head and returns his mind to the present. He has to focus on the situation. He doesn’t buy for a second that a robot like Usami, which resembles Monokuma so closely, has completely pure motivations. Not only that, but he’s certain that they’re here for some other reason. Not just to get closer to one another. Because it’s a pointless endeavour, really, the idea that Ryoma could somehow become a good person again. Maybe it’ll work for the other people here, but it doesn’t seem to be shaping up that way.

 

Of course, he’s got total faith in his friends. No reason not to, after all. Even if Kaede isn’t here, even if Kaede died, he doesn’t doubt for a second that someone as strong-willed as Tenko or Kiibo will be able to heal, and help others to do the same. But Ryoma is different. Ryoma’s got nowhere to go, after this, and beyond that, he’s just not sure…

 

As for the other people here, he’s got nothing to say. Despite his utter lack of potential at this point in his life, Ryoma isn’t dense enough to say that he’s unintelligent by any stretch of the definition. In fact, he’d almost go as far as to call himself a fairly observant person. Aside from his natural agility and upper arm strength, he’d say that what made him the best at tennis was his ability to observe. And observe he did.

 

Anyone with a brain could tell you that everyone here was divided into three groups. There was the smallest one, the one with only five people- Sayaka, Mukuro, Hifumi, Kiyotaka, and that quiet-looking girl, Chihiro, and Ryoma frankly isn’t sure what to make of them. All of them, aside from Chihiro, carry the energy of people crushed under their own guilt. Sayaka visibly darkens whenever the name “Makoto Naegi” (which Ryoma has never heard before in his life, though he recognises Makoto as a rather common name for a rather average person more often than not) pops up in conversation, and that girl, Mukuro, seems to crumble under the crazy-hope-dude’s stare. Hifumi inches away from Kiyotaka at every opportunity, and Kiyotaka can’t look at Chihiro for very long before his eyes well up and he flinches away. Clearly they’ve all got emotional baggage, and Ryoma hopes for their sake that they sort it out soon, because they only know each other, it seems, and it would be terrible if they found themselves alone because of some problems that they’re unable to work out.

 

The second group, also the second largest, is comprised of the people who seem to know these islands with varying degrees of knowledge. Byakuya (who Ryoma isn’t sure isn’t a part of the first group, as they seem to know him) knows the least, Mahiru, the red haired girl- Ryoma refuses to acknowledge that she’s pretty- who woke him up knows just a little bit more than him, Ibuki and Hiyoko seem to be more familiar, Nekomaru laughed when asked and said something cryptic about a fun house, and Nagito, the one who gives off a vibe that Ryoma likens to Korekiyo’s in his mind, seems to know all of the islands almost scarily well.

 

Those two groups, while very few of them seem to have any familiarity with one another, have much in common, in Ryoma’s mind. They both speak as though they are future attendees of this strange school, Hope’s Peak Academy. Neither group seems to know anything about the Monokubz, or the Ultimate Academy… in fact, it seems as though Ryoma and his friends were on a separate plane of existence, almost. They received their titles through being accepted into an academy. They’ve never so much as heard of the Ultimate Initiative.

 

But Ryoma and his friends… are a different case. Rantaro, Tenko, Angie, Miu, Kokichi, Tsumugi, Kiibo… he’s always felt at least somewhat alienated from his peers, but this is unheard of. At least at the Ultimate Academy, their circumstances were pretty much the same. Oh, sure, they all had homes to return to, people to kill for. Ryoma didn’t even have _that._ All he had left was a seat on death row and the crimes he’d committed. ( _That’s why,_ a voice in the back of his mind reminds him, _Monokuma put together that video for me, in that way. I have nothing._ ) But they didn’t have these different stories. So what if they all died in their killing games? So what if they were all Ultimates? It was enough to make his brain hurt.

 

They’d tried to go over the killing games as best as they could, but talking about it eventually proved fruitless when everybody seemed to have different amounts of knowledge of even their own killing games. Eventually Mahiru put her hands on her hips and sighed, saying that the people who stayed alive for the longest should just stay on the beach and talk while everyone else tried to find something productive to do.

 

“Uh, but,” she looked at Tsumugi when she said this, a frown playing on her lips. “Maybe Shirogane should… not, if what Kiibo says is the truth and you were the mastermind.”

 

“That’s fair,” Tsumugi had said, shrugging like it didn’t make a difference to her either way. “I’ll be back in my room, then. It’s amazing to me that this simulation managed to personalise all of our rooms to our specific interests! It’s almost like they know me…” she laughed, shook her head, and took off, leaving everyone else, aside from Nagito, Hifumi, and Kiibo, to follow suit. Mukuro, Ryoma noticed, had lingered, but she eventually turned on her heel and walked away, her short black hair shifting as she walked.

 

Another thing he finds baffling, actually, is that Tsumugi Shirogane was the mastermind. To begin with, Ryoma hadn’t even been considering that there was a mastermind in the first place. Shuichi kept that important detail to himself and Kaede, and in turn, she got Rantaro killed. At that point they’d exhausted the idea so much that Shuichi said there might not have even been a mastermind. And if Ryoma had had more energy, he might’ve found that a pretty lazy way to go about things, the kind of thing only said by someone who wants to trust everyone else, because there would’ve been no reason for the mastermind to reveal themselves in that first class trial if they really wanted a killing game to happen, but he hadn’t… really been thinking about it. He honestly couldn’t have cared less about escaping. There was nothing waiting for him, anyway.

 

But to find out that it was Tsumugi- not only that, but _Tsumugi killed Rantaro,_ for no reason… it sort of made Ryoma want to throw up. He’s a murderer, of course, and he supposes that with that in mind he’s not necessarily in the position to be judging her, but… Rantaro didn’t do anything, to her. Ryoma didn’t ask why, he just left when everyone else did, but it still felt wrong, tasted bitter, and a little sour, like coffee too late at night when he’s already full of energy. All Tsumugi said earlier was that she had to, otherwise the killing game never would’ve started. Which makes sense as a motive for the person who wanted the killing game, but Ryoma just can’t equate that with Tsumugi. Tsumugi, really? The sweet girl who was always sticking up for Gonta? It just plain doesn’t sit right, as she’d say it.

 

And yet she said so herself, that she killed Rantaro, that she executed Kaede for no reason, that she was the mastermind. Ryoma can’t exactly argue with that. Nobody looks like a killer, really. It’s no good trying to argue with it in his head. Tsumugi was the mastermind. Tsumugi killed Rantaro. Tsumugi executed Kaede. Ryoma can only imagine how Shuichi felt, to learn as much.

 

Again, Ryoma has to remind himself that dwelling on these things is only going to make him feel worse. Surely there’s something more productive he could be doing. He’s sort of been taking Mahiru’s instructions to go do something productive very loosely, and by that he means, not at all, for the past fifteen minutes. Honestly, it’s a nice spot, he’s found. The scent of the ocean is still really strong, even in the park, where he can’t really see the water, and the bronze statue he’s sitting against is cool under his leather jacket. He doesn’t mind this place at all. It sure beats prison, and the Ultimate Academy too, because here, at least, there isn’t that damn lab to remind him of everything he did, and everything he failed to be.

 

He wouldn’t mind staying here for a while, and he sure could have worse company. If he’s being honest with himself, he could see himself getting closer to a lot of the other people here. Rantaro, first of all, because after seeing the guy die- well, Rantaro was the one who insisted he stay alive. It might’ve even been Ryoma’s fault he did, because it was him who was talking about letting someone else kill him like a dumbass. He should’ve approached someone about it quietly, privately, rather than suggesting it to the group at large. But Rantaro had heard, and it might’ve been that conversation that spurred him to go to the library and look at that bookcase. Lord knows what he was trying to accomplish; Ryoma is hesitant to ask. But still, he has a soothing energy, doesn’t seem to expect anything of you. The former tennis pro wouldn’t mind being friends with him.

 

There’s Mukuro, as well, she has a disposition that sort of reminds him of himself. The quiet, self hating type, and Ryoma could at least get along with her. She isn’t as quiet as she seems, and despite her abrasiveness, she possesses a type of wisdom that Ryoma seldom sees in other people his age. He could like to get to know her. Kiibo, too, because despite his persecution complex he’s patient and nice. The type of person who tolerated Kokichi’s antics for far too long. As for Kokichi himself, the kid’s high strung, but not necessarily a bad person, and Ryoma thinks that if he calmed down a little, they could be friends.

 

And… Mahiru, who seems to be quite the force of nature, if he’s being genuine. He didn’t wake up of his own devices, as it seems everyone else did. He woke up instead to her shaking him awake, inside of his cottage, and a flash of her red hair made him panic, a little, because the memories that came with seeing that shade… well, it wasn’t even really that shade, and it’s a stupid reason to panic at any rate, but regardless, Mahiru seems sweet, and leadership oriented, and Ryoma is sure that they could get along.

 

But, well, he can’t. They’ll be repulsed, the people who don’t already know about all those people he killed, and furthermore, he just doesn’t have the spark he used to have. His sarcastic verging on cynical tendencies, the things that once drew people towards them, now serve to push people away. Before he died, a strange thing to say without a doubt, Kaito was constantly on his case, attempting to get him to be the person he used to. And maybe it would’ve worked, the way it did with Shuichi, had he been receptive to it. But he wasn’t. He’s not. Ryoma is beyond saving, in his opinion.

 

Perhaps out of habit, his hand slips into his pocket and closes over his box of candy cigarettes. He pulls one out, but along the way, his knuckle bumps against his student handbook, and once he rests the thing between his lips, he decides to take out the handbook itself, because he might as well check and see what’s on it, while he’s here and doing nothing. The sweet taste of peppermint fills his mouth as he taps the power button, swiping his finger across the screen to unlock it. It greets him with his name, a little dancing Usami icon in the bottom right corner, and he chuckles to himself at the sight of it. Dumb, but cute, he’s willing to admit. He’s more of a fan of cats, but rabbits can be pretty cute. Not Usami, maybe, but the icon isn’t so bad.

 

There’s a really strange game-looking thing, to do with taking care of pets, but Ryoma ignores it in favour of perusing the other icons on the homescreen. The map, which he’s already seen, rules, which he’ll get to in a minute, and student profiles. He frowns, but clicks on the student profiles, because he’d like to see what he can find there. There seems to be a profile for all nineteen of them, and they’re pretty dry, to be honest. Just a strangely invasive description of physical characteristics, their talents, their names, and a picture of their faces. Ryoma doesn’t like the one chosen for him; he looks far too poker faced. When was that picture even taken? It could’ve been just now, for all he knows. Also, on each profile it looks like there are a couple arbitrary likes and dislikes listed. Purely out of curiosity, he checks his own, and sees that under his own name Usami has written “russian blues” (referring to his favourite breed of cat) under likes and “whitetip reef sharks” (referring to an absolute garbage species of shark) under dislikes. So, perhaps not too inaccurate, though he wonders how Usami even got this information to begin with. A little creepy, if he’s being honest.

 

There’s another option, Ryoma notices, on each of the student profiles. The option to add pages, presumably as one gets to know their fellow students. How many pages are they supposed to add until Usami lets them go home, he wonders? Four? Five? Whatever the case, he’s fairly certain he won’t be adding any new pages.

 

Ryoma clicks out of the student profiles and onto the map, looking again at the five islands. Now that he’s looking at it a little closer, he can see little… pictures, of each of their faces, moving around at different places on two of the islands. One of them, the one Ryoma is on (the Central Island, he thinks loosely) and the other is the first island. It’s a bit like the Marauders Map from Harry Potter, he thinks with a crooked smile, then extinguishes it, because it’s such an odd thought. But how is the map able to track all of their locations? Are they all being tracked in some way? Is that even possible? He supposes since that if this is a simulation, as Kiibo said, it wouldn’t be out of the question, but he wonders if it’s something else…

 

He should focus, speculating might not be too helpful. Still, though, now he’s curious. He wonders if the handbooks have tracking devices implemented into them… maybe that’s how? And the map is just the way of seeing where everyone is? He should test the thought, later, but for the moment... he has to wonder why are there people only on two of the islands? Is there a reason? Maybe he should check it out. With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he pushes himself to his feet and slips the handbook into his pocket, deciding all of a sudden to go and check.

 

Exiting the park and looking around, Ryoma spots the bridge he took before, the one that leads to the first island. He can’t see anything on it from here, aside from the vague outline of that large restaurant he passed on the way to the beach. It doesn’t matter, though, because that’s not really his aim, right now. Instead, he makes his way around the central island, treading through the sand on light footsteps. Having something to do makes him feel a little better, less stuck in his thoughts. He should do it more often. Before long he comes across another bridge, and when he takes out his handbook and opens the map, he sees that his little icon is standing in front of the bridge to the fifth island. That wasn’t really his intent; he meant to go to the second island, but there’s virtually no way to predict such things. Still, he peers at the bridge before him, and the problem quickly becomes evident.

 

There isn’t a bridge. Well, alright, that’s being a little abrupt. The bridge is broken, is what Ryoma is trying to say. He slides the handbook back into his pocket and lets his hand brush against the railing as he steps onto what remains. This broken half of the bridge protrudes perhaps a meter over the water, seeming as though something large and destructive broke it off. On the other side, at the fifth island, there is a bit more of the bridge sticking out, but it doesn’t look sturdy in the slightest. Ryoma thinks perhaps maybe he could stand to be on it if he were over there, but he’s not, and he doubts somebody of say Nekomaru’s size could be there without it breaking.

 

Not wanting to test his luck any further, Ryoma steps back onto the central island, frowning. In the distance, he can see a faint black outline of… is that Monokuma’s head? His frown deepens, and he crosses his arms. If Usami was being honest when she said she’s not in cahoots with that bear, there’s no reason for it to be there. With that thought in mind, he clears his throat. She should appear whenever summoned. That was the case for Monokuma, as well.

 

“Usami,” he calls out, and it takes a moment, but true to form, the air next to him shimmers and she appears, looking nervous.

 

“Hoshi, you should step away from the edge,” she suggests, but the way her voice shakes destroys any credibility she might’ve had, and besides, Ryoma thinks, he’s standing a comfortable distance away from that bridge. He’ll be fine. Still, for her sake, and because he wants information, he takes a small step backwards, then looks at her fully. She’s clutching her supposed magic staff tight in her hands, and sweating, like she’s nervous about getting it taken away from her.

 

“Why is the bridge broken?” He asks shortly, and he’d like to be kinder, because he’s not fond of picking on the weak (which is a category Usami certainly fits into) but he’s also not fond of stalling. He’d like more to get straight to the point. “And why is there a building on the fifth island that looks like Monokuma?”

 

“Ahh, I’m sorry,” Usami apologises, bowing her head, which Ryoma notes isn’t an answer, not at all. “The last time the simulation was used Monokuma took over, and changed a bunch of things, and I’m a bit preoccupied with-” she pauses, looking a bit panicked, then shakes her head. “A-Anyway, I’ll be fixing everything soon, so you can’t access any of the other islands right now except this one and the first island, but don’t worry about it too much.”

 

He is pretty sure he’s going to worry about it. Ryoma narrows his eyes. “What are you preoccupied with?” He asks, and can’t help the accusatory tone that creeps into his voice. “What else is going on, is there something you’re not telling us?”

 

“Uhhm… w-well,” Usami hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’ve got everything under control, so don’t worry about that either! No matter what, I won’t let anything happen to any of you!”  


“Anything happen?” Ryoma repeats. “What else is happening, are we in danger? You shouldn’t-”

 

Just as his mouth is forming the next word, Usami twirls around and disappears, leaving the faint scent of strawberries lingering in the air. Ryoma takes a couple deep breaths, trying to keep himself from fuming. Monokuma was like that too, but it feels different, with Usami. He doesn’t trust her for a second but it’s hard to deny how genuine she seems. And it’s just not in his nature to be so harsh with people who tremble like she does when confronted. (Not in the way that Miu does, either- that’s just uncomfortable.)

 

Despite the fact that Usami said he couldn’t access any of the other islands, Ryoma takes out his handbook and walks around to check. When he stops at the bridge third island, he notes that Mahiru’s icon has moved to the second, and is staying there, so he pauses where he is, deciding that he doesn’t want to risk bothering her, if she’s doing something important. Instead, he closes the map and moves into the rules, figuring he’d better get familiar with them, if he’s to be serious about any of this.

 

The rules he is presented with are far different from the ones that Monokuma gave them at the Ultimate Academy. Ryoma feels his brows knit together but he doesn’t frown, because they’re… not bad rules, actually. Just startling. He forges ahead despite his misgivings and decides to read through all of the rules one at a time, for the sake of being thorough.

 

 **_Rule 1_ ** _: Extreme violence is prohibited on this island. Please live peaceful and relaxing lives with your fellow students._

 

That’s already a strange rule, but it lines up with everything Usami has told them thus far about the reason that they’re here. She wants them to get along, to heal… after their ordeals. The killing game, Ryoma assumes she meant. But… it doesn’t make sense that she wouldn’t be upfront with them about everything that’s been going on. Why are they even alive?

 

 **_Rule 2_ ** _: Be considerate of each other and work together to obtain Hope Fragments._

 

Uhm… what the hell is a Hope Fragment? Something important, he assumes, if it’s written in the rules, but if it matters that much, then why wouldn’t Usami have told them about it before? Well… to be fair to Usami… they weren’t exactly giving her the chance to speak, earlier. To explain what she wanted to explain. They were so hostile. And it seemed like her explanation was pretty hasty, too… almost like she’s busy with something… Ryoma wonders if it has anything to do with what she alluded to, just now.

 

 **_Rule 3_ ** _: Littering is not allowed. Let us coexist with this island's bountiful nature in "mutual prosperity"._

 

That seems like a fair rule, Ryoma wouldn’t be upset with it even if it was put in place by Monokuma. He wonders what the punishment would be if the rule got broken, though, and suddenly a sour taste enters his mouth. Surely, Usami wouldn’t kill them…

 

 **_Rule 4_ ** _: The lead teacher cannot directly interfere with the students. An exception to this rule is made if any student violates a rule._

 

Directly interfere? But what does that _mean?_ Does it mean hurt them? Try to make them do things? And how is the teacher allowed to interfere if a student does break the rules? Reading these rules almost creates more questions than it solves. He releases a breath, closes his eyes. Ryoma can feel a headache forming. It’s too much for him to handle. What feels like barely more than a couple hours ago, he was being drowned to death by Kirumi. The place on his head from where she hit him still aches with the memory, and he can’t even find it in himself to feel angry at her, because he just let it happen. And now he’s here, and all of a sudden they’re supposed to… make friends? Heal? What the hell _happened_ while he was dead?

 

Actually, there might be a way for him to get the answers to some of his questions. Ryoma opens the map again, checking the bridge to the second island. Sure enough, Mahiru is still there. If there’s anybody who would be able to talk to him about the rules, it would be Mahiru and her friends. They have been on this island before, after all. It might be in his best interest to speak with her. Even if he does want to avoid letting people in… he figures he needs to just suck it up and get on with it.

 

That in mind, Ryoma puts the handbook back into his pocket and chews the rest of his candy cigarette, walking across the sand and over to where the photographer is standing. She doesn’t hear his approach, but since he doesn’t want to startle her, he wordlessly moves into a place where she can see him, and he’s greeted with a smile that is far too likable for his taste. Deciding to shelf those thoughts for later perusal, he speaks first, wanting to keep things brief.

 

“Koizumi,” he hooks his thumbs in his pockets, meeting her eyes. They’re a pleasant shade of olive green, and Ryoma is fond of them, but he forces himself not to think about it. “Can I ask for your help with something?”

 

“Of course,” Mahiru smiles, walking over. “You seem pretty reliable, unlike some of the other boys you’re friends with,” Ryoma notes the emphasis on the word ‘boys’ but chooses not to comment. “So I don’t mind! Not that I wouldn’t help you, even if you did seem unreliable…” she shakes her head. “So, what’s up? Hoshi, right?”

 

“Yup,” Ryoma nods, popping the p, then clears his throat, pulling out his handbook and opening it to the rules. “Are these rules familiar to you?” He shows it to Mahiru, and she scans over them, swiping between the rules of her own volition once she finishes reading each one.

 

“Yeah, to the letter!” She responds finally, nodding. “Those are all the rules that were there in the beginning, when it was just Usami.”

 

“Hm.” Ryoma finds it odd that she specified. “Were additional rules added?”  
  
Mahiru nods again; her hair is disturbed by the action and her bangs fall into her eyes. It’s strange that they don’t tangle in her eyelashes when she blinks, because they’re particularly long. (Stop getting distracted, dumbass.) “When Monokuma came around, there were more rules added. About the killing game. I don’t remember them verbatim, but you’re probably familiar with them, right? Regarding how everyone has to participate in class trials, how everyone dies except the blackened if they aren’t caught…”

 

“I am.” Ryoma replies, so that she doesn’t have to continue. “My killing game didn’t have these first four, but I imagine… if we’re going forward with the assumption that Usami isn’t here to hurt any of us, then that makes sense.”

 

“Can you elaborate?” Mahiru asks. “I think I get what you’re trying to say, but I still…”

 

“Of course.” Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his box of candy cigarettes, thoughtlessly offers one to Mahiru. She examines the label for a minute, brow furrowed, but then smiles, perhaps noticing that it’s just candy, and selects one from the side with a quiet thanks. The gesture gives Ryoma half a mind to cover his face with his hat, but instead he just puts one of the cigarettes into his own mouth and slides the box back into his pocket. “Usami made these rules to keep us from hurting each other. That never mattered to Monokuma. My killing game had Monokuma, but not Usami, so it would make sense for you guys to have had these rules in place, with her around.”

 

“Do you think she can be trusted?” Mahiru inquires with a frown. “She was pretty useless during my killing game, but Chiaki… Chiaki seemed to get along with her…” Ryoma isn’t sure who Chiaki is, to be honest, but Mahiru looks sad when she says the name, and he feels bad.

 

“I don’t know about trusted.” Ryoma eventually allows, hesitant to make any judgements on this with the limited information that he has. “But I think we can assume she’s not here to hurt any of us.”

 

“You know?” Mahiru’s face brightens with another smile, and now Ryoma does reach up, tugging his hat down, so she can’t see the way his ears redden. “I think I was right about you being reliable! That’s really smart, Hoshi, good job.” She praises cheerfully, and wow, that’s actually really annoying, the way he feels happy to receive the kind words, but he shoves aside the feelings, because they’re probably just going to make things harder on him in the long run.

 

“Thanks,” he grunts anyway, then exhales. “What’s got you standing at this bridge? You can’t go onto the island.” He gestures at the large break in the middle, and Mahiru rests her hands on her hips with a tired sigh, nodding slowly.

 

“I know, I’m just… I used to be able to cross it, actually. I’ve only been on this island, aside from the two we already have access to, but it’s weird seeing the bridge blown up like this because it was the middle of the day when I died, you know? It could’ve been fifteen minutes ago, but now all of a sudden everyone’s acting like it’s been years.” Ryoma nods; he knows exactly how that feels. It feels as though he died last night but still woke up the next morning like it was all some big scary nightmare. “And I guess I was the second one dead, which…” she releases a breath, and Ryoma can’t help but raise his eyebrows.

 

“I… was too.” He finds himself saying, and Mahiru looks over at him. “It’s nothing to boast about, of course, since I kind of just let myself die, but-” he didn’t really mean to say that but Mahiru doesn’t ask questions so he doesn’t try to provide an explanation. “-I can relate, at least.” And he doesn’t say it, but it thinks, _maybe we’ve both got a long way to go, huh?_

 

And there’s a moment of silence before Mahiru speaks up again. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

Ryoma feels his lip curl in what passes for not quite a smile, but a smirk. “You just did.” Mahiru rolls her eyes, but smiles too, a little less dryly than he does, and he gives a real answer. “But go for it.”

 

“Earlier, you said you’re not really the Ultimate Tennis Pro anymore. Why is that?” She doesn’t rescind her words, apologise, or tell him he doesn’t have to answer- which is something Shuichi or Kaede might’ve done. The straightforwardness is sort of reminiscent of Kaito, but in Mahiru, he doesn’t mind it so much. He thinks it’s admirable. She has that kind of energy to her, though, so… it’s no wonder. Still, even if he appreciates how forthcoming she is, he… doesn’t trust himself to talk about what he did. He doesn’t particularly want to keep it from her, he just doesn’t want to see the look in her eyes when she realises that he’s a murderer.

 

“...that’s an old story, kid.” Ryoma eventually mutters, looking away and tugging his hat down further over his eyes. In his peripheral, he sees Mahiru frown, like she’s about to speak sternly, but she hesitates for some reason, looking a bit sad. “You’re welcome to ask one of my classmates, they’ll tell you.” He eventually looks back at her, shrugging. “But I don’t think I really want to get into it right now.” And… “It’s probably for the best if you try not to wonder too much about me, though. I’m not much but a shell of who I once was.”

 

She doesn’t say anything else, and Ryoma figures it’s as good a time as any to take his leave, so he turns around, starting to walk away. But then a hand closes on his upper arm, and he turns around, meets Mahiru’s eyes with his brows raised. “You-” she pauses, frowns. “Sorry if I’m coming on a little strong. Hinata said I had a tendency to do that. Just- I don’t know what happened to you, or what made you think you’re not who you used to be, but if it’s a mistake you made, or something… you shouldn’t let it define you.” She lets go of his arm, but he doesn’t leave, because he doesn’t think she’s done speaking yet. And he’s correct. “Don’t keep beating yourself up over things that happened in the past, y’know? Maybe you’re not the same person you once were, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep improving. I mean, we all have this… second chance, now.”

 

Her words are… familiar, to him. They sound like something Kaito or Kaede or Shuichi would say to him. But… they also sound… different, somehow. Still, though, Ryoma is sure that if Mahiru knew what he’s done, she’d be much less inclined to spend time around him. That in mind, he shakes his head, turns around. “Thanks for the words, Koizumi. I’m going to take a moment.”

 

“Y-Yeah, go ahead.” And she sounds sad again, uncertain, but there’s nothing Ryoma can do about that, so he finishes turning around and makes his way over to the bridge to the first island, deciding that maybe he can spend some time in his cottage, or something, and ponder all the new information he’s received. (As well as that interaction, but not as much as he’d like to, because that only ever leads to bad things.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost 6k, this never happens!!!!
> 
> ok that's just because I really like writing as Ryoma. thank god he's one of the focus characters in this story. he's so edgy though lmao
> 
> in other news, Mahiru is a lot of fun hehehe jsbdfhbdshfjs I love her so much ajbdsfhjbsf
> 
> I'm proud of this chapter!!! a whole lot of thinking, but I managed to get in everything that I wanted to get in. so that's nice.
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!! more character interactions next time around, sorry this one was a little barren in that area. Ryoma is one isolated boyo.
> 
> comments feed my soul, but also read my brother's fic coward


	4. Prologue IV: Commencing lightening up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie POV.

Angie is pretty sure she has a handle on all the personalities on this island. It’s not hard to judge people in a position like hers, after all. All she really has to do is put on a smile and people feel much more inclined to be honest with her, whether inadvertently or not. That much doesn’t matter to her, she’s not really looking to find her soulmate, so why should it make a difference if they’re meaning to?

 

Anyway, she’s not always best at reading a situation- of all areas it’s the one that her god doesn’t give her proper assistance in, not that that’s his fault- but what she can determine is dynamics, and they speak a lot about people. It was how she was able to figure out that Tenko wasn’t really a member of the student council, and how she could tell from the get-go that something was off about the Kaede case. (It’s always the quiet ones, she laments, in regards to Tsumugi’s reveal as the mastermind. She’d ask her god why he neglected to share with her  _ that  _ piece of information but he has his reasons, and she knows better than to try to challenge them.) Not that she doubted Kaede for a moment when she said she killed Rantaro. It was just that Angie thought something was weird about it.

 

And she’d never in a heartbeat trust that bear. Even if she was willing to stay there forever with the thing, that was in no was synonymous with wanting to get along with the thing that took away Kaede, and subsequently Kirumi, from her. Angie is good at pretending, she does it almost every second of the day (it’s the reason why she never frowns, after all, and that takes a conscious effort) but that bear really pushed her limits there.

 

But she has a good grasp of the people here, she’s confident about that much. She’s been watching them, in her usual manner so they wouldn’t pick up on it, and she has a number of observations. Were Shuichi here, she might consider sharing them offhandedly, but he’s not, and Kiibo said something about him sacrificing his life… well, no use dwelling on that, Angie really hates sad things! It would be a more productive use of her time if she followed other trains of thought.

 

She kicks her legs, watching the coloured water ripple through her toes. Angie actually really hates chlorine, hates the colour it makes her hair and hates the way that it smells, too, but there’s a pool in front of the restaurant and nobody is here at the moment, which makes it a perfect spot to sit down and unpack her thoughts. She’s keeping her smile up, because she’s not anywhere someone couldn’t easily come talk to her, but at least alone like this she can let her shoulders relax a little. She’s certain her god won’t mind if she takes this moment to herself, and even if he does, she’ll make it up to him later.

 

So, she’s pretty sure that that Nagito guy did something absolutely terrible. He must’ve, for all his friends (well, Angie uses that word lightly) to act around him the way they do. She noticed exasperation, discomfort, irritation. Hiyoko, the traditional dancer who is not unlike the orphans on Angie’s island who are hostile due to neglect rather than maliciousness, seemed to glare at him every time he spoke, and even the upbeat musician, Ibuki, seemed off-put every time a word came out of the lucky student’s mouth. On second thought, though, Angie wonders if that’s a result of something else, on Ibuki’s part, because while she’s almost certain nobody else noticed, she did catch the musician touching her neck with an odd look on her face more than once.

 

The only one of them who seemed comfortable around Nagito was Byakuya, and frankly Angie is almost certain that that’s subject to change, because the large boy seemed wary of the words coming out of Nagito’s mouth, seemed to be looking at him with more concern as the moments passed. He’s certainly troublesome. (Nagito, that is, not Byakuya. The progeny seems fairly competent.) Were she still at the Ultimate Academy, Angie might have asked Gonta to restrain the guy and keep him somewhere where nobody can see and hear him. Sure, the artist herself is fairly manipulative when she wants to be so maybe that’s a little unfair, but she only does it out of a place of good intentions. That guy just seems like bad news.

 

Though, his disposition is familiar to Angie. He reminds her of some of those annoying people on her island who chose to worship her rather than her god. She should warn him later to steer clear of cults because there’s no doubt in her mind that he could very easily get wrapped up in one. People only become like that when they’re the butt of tragedy, and she has sympathy for the boy, but yikes. He seems to put a lot of stake in hope. Which isn’t such a bad thing to have faith in, except that he worships it like a god, and there is only one thing that should be worshipped in that manner, in Angie’s opinion.

 

As for the rest of his friends, she has faith that they’re trustworthy. Mahiru, for example, seems levelheaded and kind, if remarkably strong willed. That’s not a bad thing, but if there are any other strong personalities on this island, like Kiibo for example, they’ll either butt heads or become a great team. She’s withholding judgement on that much because she doesn’t know how to judge what she hasn’t seen. Nekomaru seems positive and friendly. More confident than Gonta but Angie can’t help comparing them- not because they both have such large builds, though admittedly that’s part of it, but rather because Nekomaru seems to have the same gentle touch as the entomologist, one that can’t quite be replicated by anyone else.

 

Angie feels a sudden pang of sadness, one that is far less alien to her than she’d like. Kiibo mentioned that Gonta killed Miu, and subsequently was executed. Gonta was a good soul, she’s certain he’ll go to Heaven, but it makes her sad anyway. It always makes her sad when people die, no matter how much she acts like it doesn’t. She misses him, and the kind smiles he would level in her direction if he thought she was upset. He was always more perceptive to those things than people ever gave him credit for.

 

The other five students who Angie isn’t acquainted with, Mukuro, Kiyotaka, Hifumi, Chihiro, and Sayaka… Angie hasn’t looked at them much because Nagito just feels like so much to unpack, but she’s pretty sure they have a lot of difficulty communicating with each other in an effective way. She does think that Chihiro, if she’s more assertive, will be able to aid her friends in that area, but otherwise she doesn’t have a lot of confidence that the five of them will be any good to anybody. Mukuro especially; to Angie, she stinks like a killer. Not that it’s ever been Angie’s place to place judgement on somebody, she would never, she finds it abhorrent that somebody would pretend to be a god in that manner. But she can tell when somebody’s actions are slowed by their guilt. And that doesn’t really happen without good reason.

 

Finally, there’s her own group of people, but she’s not worried about the majority of them, because she knows plenty about who they are through continued exposure. She’s a little worried about Rantaro because apparently he was lying about his talent, but Angie isn’t necessarily in a good position to judge him on that- besides, she’s sure he has his reasons. Apparently he was in the library trying to save everyone at the time limit, so he’s probably not a bad egg. He seems closed off, though, and that’s always difficult. Kokichi is a bit of a concern but in a big group like this she sincerely doubts he’ll try anything too outrageous. Worse case scenario, she can ask that Nekomaru restrain him, and she’s certain he’d comply with as much grace as Gonta. They’re definitely not the same person but they have a similar energy, after all, and it shouldn’t take much to restrain Kokichi.

 

Tsumugi is her biggest concern. The idea that the cosplayer was the mastermind the whole time, the one who killed Rantaro and Kaede to start her disgusting killing game… it makes Angie want to throw up. She was in the student council, for god’s sake. The artist held her against her  _ chest,  _ reassured her because she had faith in her goodwill. Anybody is worthy of forgiveness, Angie truly believes that, but she has a hard time thinking somebody like Tsumugi can be anything but utterly rotten. She has absolutely no faith in the cosplayer’s character, not anymore. To think that she could have pretended to be innocent for so long…

 

And Angie didn’t suspect a thing was off about her, either. What kind of leader does that make her, the kind that doesn’t even know her own members enough to ascertain that they’re good? She was so focused on the situation with the resurrection ritual, she completely forgot to focus on what was important, and that was the people who were still alive. Clearly she had zero grasp of who exactly she was trying to protect, if Tsumugi managed to hide something like that.

 

That, she decides, is enough self deprecation for the day. She massages her eyelids, leaning back until she’s lying down and staring at the sky. Kiibo said something about this being a simulation. She wonders if her god can reach her here. He’s been awfully quiet. On the other hand, it’s possible that when she died…

 

No, she… it’s not possible that she can’t talk to him anymore. Angie slaps both sides of her face, a gesture that reminds her of Kaede. She’s certain he’ll speak if she remembers how to listen. She shouldn’t worry about it at the moment.

 

“Uhm, Yonaga?” Oh, speak of the devil, sort of. She refocuses on her surroundings and makes eye contact with Rantaro, who is leaning over her with a look of concern pressed into his features. (Rantaro is handsome, Angie muses, she’d love to paint him.) “You alright?”

 

Angie briefly considers telling the truth but vetoes it, because even though it would be understandable given the circumstances she finds it strange to be thinking about breaking from the norm so suddenly. Likely that would just make all of this even more jarring. “I’m doing exceedingly well, thank you!” She chirps, throws her arms up. The gesture would help her case better were she sitting up, so she does just that, tugging up her yellow coat once she’s upright. She twists her body around to meet Rantaro’s green eyes again, tilting her head to the side. The smile falls into place so easily. “What brings you to this corner of the island, Rantaro?” It’s kind of a joke, the pool is more towards the center of this island, but Rantaro smiles anyway, maybe to accommodate her.

 

He sits next to her so she doesn’t have to twist so far and Angie silently appreciates the gesture. “I saw your name on the Monop- I mean, student handbook,” he corrects himself without batting an eye, continues speaking. “And I decided I’d come over. Not much. How are you handling all of this?”

 

“Well, it’s not my every day,” Angie points out, and he snorts. “But you know, you know! These kinds of second chances are only ever given to those who deserve them the most! So I  _ am  _ feeling pretty optimistic!” She hesitates. “That does beg the question though…”

 

“Why is Shirogane here?” Rantaro guesses, and the artist nods, glad she didn’t have to say it aloud. The survivor frowns, perhaps in thought, and tucks his knee into his chest so that he can rest his chin on it. “Well, I can’t come up with a very good explanation for that, but it’s possible that Usami would have some answers.”

 

“You’re right!” Angie nods. She knows her classmates are more than a little skeptical about trusting the rabbit- in fact, she’s certain that Rantaro is more distrustful than he’s letting on, but she sees no reason in particular to believe anything other than what Usami has already told them. She’s a bit wishy washy, but Angie isn’t the kind of person to hold that against somebody, and everything else has suggested that the rabbit robot is there to help them, not hinder them. Though Angie would appreciate it if Usami was a little more upfront about their situation. “Shall I call her?”

 

Rantaro raises his eyebrows. “If you want. I’m not sure if I’m willing to believe the information that she’s going to give us, though.”

 

A concern she thought he might have, if he distrusted everybody enough to lie about his talent. “I believe in Usami!” Angie tells him, because it’s what’s at the top of her mind, and when he tilts his head at her, she shrugs. “It might seem strange, but if she is the reason we are all alive again, then I am inclined to put my faith in her! There isn’t much for me to lose anymore, after all!” She pulls a paintbrush off her belt and shakes it in Rantaro’s face in a mock gesture of chastisement; it has the intended effect and he starts laughing, incredulous.

 

“Why didn’t I spend more time with you in the academy?” He asks, perhaps to himself, perhaps to her, but Angie decides to answer, shrugging her shoulders.

 

“You thought you had to save everybody, yes?” Some of the mirth vanishes from his expression when she says that, and Angie is expecting it, so she doesn’t take it personally. She doesn’t like that his green eyes are threatening to frown, though, so she continues. “Angie too. Perhaps not in the same way as you, but I definitely wanted to save everyone. It was what God told me to do, after all!” Well, perhaps that’s not the whole truth- he  _ did  _ tell her to save everyone, but even if he hadn’t, Angie is fairly certain she would’ve tried anyway. “Maybe because I failed, that is why I can’t…” Oops. Wasn’t supposed to say that. What’s this weird aura of comfort that’s radiating off of the survivor? She doesn’t divulge that information to anybody and suddenly this guy sits his ass down and now everything is just spilling out. Uncool.

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Rantaro’s tone is remarkably dry. “My talent was literally the Ultimate Survivor and I was the first one dead.” Angie laughs at that, then immediately feels bad for it, but he grins at her, so she thinks maybe it’s not so bad. She still makes sure her smile doesn’t slip again, though, because as much as she is comfortable right now, there’s no doubt she’ll seriously regret it if she decides to show any more weakness right now.

 

What was she thinking about, again? Oh, right, calling Usami… she should still do that, she needs to know why Tsumugi is here. But before Angie can do so, someone calls her name.

 

“Hey, Angie, Amami!” The photographer, Mahiru, is coming over towards them from the bridge. Angie raises her hand and waves, a smile on her face, watches Rantaro do the same. (She’s glad he’s the one who came over, he’s probably one of the friendliest. She loves all her classmates but she’d feel pretty awkward sitting here with Ryoma, who doesn’t seem to be fond of anybody, or Tenko, who certainly actively dislikes her.) “Can I talk to you guys?”

 

“Yoohoo, Mahiru!” Angie beckons her over, pats a spot in front of both her and Rantaro so they can talk effectively. “Of course, of course! You don’t mind, Rantaro?”

 

“No, I’m happy to talk to you, Koizumi.” He smiles, and Mahiru narrows her eyes at him, like she’s suspicious, which makes Angie laugh a little, but she sits down anyway.

 

Apparently Mahiru decides not to verbalise whatever accusation popped into her mind when Rantaro initially spoke. “I wanted to ask…” the photographer hesitates. “...about Hoshi.” Angie tilts her head, because she thinks she knows where this is going, but she would like Mahiru to elaborate, just in case. “You guys were in the same class, right? I’m just wondering… y’know, why he… why he calls himself a former tennis pro.”

 

“It’s his business, but…” Rantaro starts, and Mahiru quickly shakes her head.

 

“No, no, I wouldn’t ask someone else, but-” she bites her lip. “I asked him, actually, but he told me he didn’t feel like getting into it and said I could ask one of you guys.”

 

Hm… Angie’s smile turns a little bit playful but she decides that teasing the redhead wouldn’t be in good taste at the moment, so instead she just answers. “Angie doesn’t know too much, because she’s not from Japan,” she prefaces what she’s about to say with the warning, putting up a hand. “But from what I understand, Ryoma killed a bunch of people using his tennis skills!”

 

“He killed a section of the Yakuza.” Rantaro elaborates calmly, a frown engraved in his features. The serious look makes his eyes look darker and gives him a less comfortable feeling; it’s a bit unnerving, but not to Angie. She can make a similar expression herself with little effort. “And I don’t know much about why, but I doubt he’d have done it without a really good reason. I mean- okay. No reason is a good reason to commit murder. But I think he did it for his family. That’s what I’ve gathered talking to him, at least.”   
  


“Oh… I see.” Mahiru is frowning too, her brows pinched as she looks away. “I didn’t think it would be something like that, I thought he just… lost a tournament, or something.”   
  


“You would hope, huh?” Angie beams. “But Ryoma really does regret it! Every time Angie has talked to him, he finds a way to dump on himself for it! Probably not doing the same thing is a good idea, that’s what God says!” She chirps, and Rantaro gives her a weird look, probably to do with the information she accidentally let slip earlier. (She ignores him in favour of focusing on the photographer.) “Everyone who repents get forgiveness if they mean it hard enough!”

 

“That’s a kind ideology,” Mahiru remarks with her eyebrows raised. “You’re really devout, huh, Angie?”

 

“Yes, of course!” Angie nods, and she thought that would’ve been obvious, but she’s not about to make Mahiru feel bad for it. “I-” suddenly, though, a warm voice whispers in the back of her mind and she pauses, blind to how awkward the sudden stop is for Rantaro and Mahiru. She focuses instead on listening to what it’s telling her, and when it has fallen silent she snaps out of it, reaching into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her student handbook without a second thought.

 

“Yonaga?” Rantaro questions with a brow raised and she smiles but doesn’t looking at him, too focused opening up the rules and flipping through them. She looked at them first thing when they all separated from the beach, of course, because the rules were a big deal at the Ultimate Academy so she figured she’d better be well acquainted with them now, and they’re all the same as the ones she saw before. For a moment she questions whether her gut urge was correct, whether her god was just playing a trick on her when he told her to check her handbook, but then as she swipes left with her finger, a new rule is shown.

 

“Ah! Look,” she gestures to her handbook and Rantaro moves closer, looking over her shoulder at the rule. “Angie can read it for Mahiru… uh,”

 

**_Rule 5:_ ** _ The head teacher is not, under any circumstances, permitted to force the students to participate in a killing game, or any activities that would violate the previous rules. _

 

Another rules appears.

 

**_Rule 6:_ ** _ Furthermore, the head teacher is not permitted to kill or physically harm the students in any way, even in response to a rule violation. The head teacher can only respond to a rule violation with a brief chastisement. _

 

Angie swipes again, and there are more, so she keeps reading.

 

**_Rule 7:_ ** _ The head teacher is not permitted to lie to the students or remove their memories in any capacity. There are no exceptions to this rule. _

 

**_Rule 8:_ ** _ The head teacher cannot break or ignore any of these rules, and any of the aforementioned rules. They are not permitted to only enforce the ones they see fit. Whenever a rule violation of any kind occurs, the head teacher must, no matter what they are doing, appear and chastise the student violating the rule. There are no exceptions to this, even if the head teacher is busy doing something else. _

 

“...that’s… weird.” Rantero murmurs when Angie has finished reading. She swipes a couple more times but no more new rules appear, and her senses have calmed down, so she assumes that this is what her god wanted her to see.

 

Mahiru is frowning; she’s pulled out her own handbook and is looking at those rules now. “These… weren’t there before,” she says, then looks up at Angie and Rantaro. “Hey, were any of these-?”

 

“No, Monokuma would never have implemented a rule prohibiting a killing game!” Angie sings, then calms a little, smiling down at the eighth rule. “It is strange though, isn’t it? These aren’t rules that will affect us, not really! They’re rules that will affect Usami, as the head teacher! She is attempting to regulate herself!”

 

“She can always just choose not to do those things.” Rantaro points out. “Unless she’s trying particularly hard to gain our trust, or someone asked her to implement these rules, I doubt she’d put them here to regulate herself, because she doesn’t need to. If Usami truly doesn’t mean to make us kill each other, and I believe she doesn’t, then this wouldn’t be necessary. There must be something else going on.” He pauses, looks at Mahiru. “Hey, Koizumi.”   
  


“Yeah? What is it?” Mahiru still looks unnerved, but she focuses on Rantaro when he addresses her.

 

“You said these rules weren’t here before. Were the first four?” Rantaro has that look on his face, the one he had whenever he alluded to knowing more about the situation than everyone else. He’s thinking, Angie guesses. She hopes he decides to share his observations this time around, because she’d really hate to have to follow him around and demand openness, but she’s done it before and she’s not afraid to do it again if the circumstances call for it.

 

“They were.” She nods, swiping back to the third rule, the one about littering. “They weren’t properly enforced once Monokuma took over, though… he added new rules after that, about the killing game, and just enforced those ones. No violence against the headmaster, everyone has to do the trials, et cetera.”

 

“Right.” Rantaro nods. “So, that leads me to believe that…” he trails off. “Well… I wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions. It’s probably nothing.”   
  


“Angie doesn’t believe that for a second!” Angie tells him cheerfully. “Share your hypothesis, please, inquiring minds want to know!” Rantaro opens and closes his mouth, perhaps wary of making a guess and then being wrong, but Mahiru is looking at him expectantly too, so he sighs.

 

Rubbing his eyes, Rantaro mumbles, “You guys are really going to be the death of me.” Then, louder, he says, “I just think it’s possible that Monokuma is attempting to infiltrate again, or has already.”

 

“What?” Mahiru tenses up, eyes widening. “Is that true? Do you really think that?”

 

“It’s just a guess,” Rantaro says firmly, spreading his hands. “I could be super wrong. I hope so. But did Usami still have the power to make rules once Monokuma took over?”

 

“No, it didn’t seem like it.” She shakes her head. “It seemed more like he just kept her around as someone to amuse him, or stress the rest of us out. She talked about wanting to help us but it never felt like she actually had the ability to do so. He had the power to add rules, though. Uhm, that stick she has, the scepter,” Angie thinks about what she knows of Usami and is able to picture the scepter in her mind. “Monokuma broke it, and she no longer had the power to do anything that she had previously been able to do.”

 

“So maybe she’s anticipating it happening again, and taking precautions to make sure that Monokuma can’t force us to kill each other.” Rantaro sighs again, averts his gaze. “But again, I might be super off the mark, I don’t want to make any assumptions over what is otherwise a gut feeling, so you guys should probably just take what I’m saying with a grain of salt.”   
  


Angie is still smiling, but she smiles more when he says that, reaches out to touch his shoulder. It’s not difficult, because he’s still basically leaning over her shoulder to look at her handbook. “Trust your gut more, hmm? It might be a little more reliable than you’re giving it credit for! Besides,” she shrugs. “Angie likes your theory! It seems believable.”

 

“I wouldn’t hold too much belief in it,” Rantaro still seems uncomfortable.

 

“No, it makes sense.” Mahiru shakes her head. “Sorry, I had you pegged as a total player when I first saw you, but it seems like you’re actually pretty reliable. At the very least you’re smart, so, don’t undercut yourself.” She puts her hands on her hips but she doesn’t look very irritated.

 

“Haha, I promise I’m not the kind of a guy,” Rantaro scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know why everyone gets that impression, honestly… but I appreciate that you’re changing your mind on it?”

 

“You’re still on thin ice, Amami.”

 

“...alright.”

 

Giggling into a hand, Angie puts the handbook to the side and stands up, stretching her arms above her head. “Hey, hey,” she grabs both of their attention, clapping her hands together. “There’s no way a killing game can happen now, right? Because Usami put those rules into place to protect us!” She smiles. “So perhaps it’s best to lighten up a little! Nobody can hurt anybody here, or has any reason to.” Maybe her optimism has only returned because her god finally spoke to her again (he can reach her here, wherever here is, he hasn’t given up on her, thank goodness) but she’s feeling rather light at the moment.

 

Rantaro gives her another strange look. “You’re probably right,” he begins, but Angie kicks his leg to keep him from adding a but, because he inevitably will if she lets him keep talking.

 

“I’m just,” Mahiru starts too, and Angie doesn’t kick her because they don’t know each other well enough yet but she does level a glare in her direction and the photographer falls silent, brows raised.

 

“No buts, we are officially commencing lightening up!” Angie cheers. “Rantaro, can you stand up for me, please?” He does, which is probably a fatal mistake on his part, but he seems to have some level of trust in her, raising his eyebrows. “May I see your handbook?” Rantaro fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over to her. Angie tosses it to the side, grinning.

 

He seems to realises a moment too late what’s going to happen to him; his eyes widen. “Wait, wait, Yonaga!” He exclaims, alarmed, and Angie laughs, looping her arm through his.

 

“You too, Mahiru!” She calls, and the photographer bursts into laughter as Angie jumps into the pool, dragging Rantaro in with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through and removed all the honourifics from this piece because my brother isn't using them so it kind of defeats the purpose of my using them to begin with qwq
> 
> anyway I'm in love??? with Angie?????? and I know Mahiru has gotten a really big spotlight thus far but,,,,,, can't help it she's too wonderful.
> 
> (OP is gay and all her waifus except the Kyokos are in this fic so all the women get hella spotlights)
> 
> in other news somebody please for the love of god help Rantaro he's wearing his CLOTHES
> 
> kekeke hope y'all enjoyed this update, sorry I took a while getting it done I happen to be a huge ass
> 
> read my brother's fic, coward. and also comment pls I'm an attention whore


	5. Prologue V: Would you take my word for it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mukuro POV.

What was it that the robot from earlier called this place? The Neo-World Program? It’s a simulation, he said that much, but… Mukuro doesn’t quite get it.

 

She doesn’t remember much from the moments leading up to her death. It’s all a haze to her, if only because she was just doing what she was instructed to. Make a scene, go to that specific spot on the floor. The trap-door was supposed to be activated. As much as Mukuro spent hours going over her lines so that she could have them burned into her brain when the moment actually came up, from where she’s standing now, she doesn’t even have an inkling as to what they were. All she really remembers is pain, all over her body, and then betrayal, confusion,  _ despair. _

 

Which she figures should make her happy, but all she felt then and all she feels now are negatives, confusing blocks of colour in a landscape where she can’t for all her abilities see properly.

 

Somewhere beneath all the strangeness Mukuro registers that Junko killed her. There’s no way to dodge the topic; for some reason, Junko activated traps all around her in the walls (which she remarked offhandedly would only ever be used if a member of their class was misbehaving) and had her run through with spears. Her first and last injury, Mukuro thinks bitterly. But if anybody was going to be able to lay one on her like that, it would’ve been Junko. The Ultimate Despair was more than capable of such an action, after all.

 

Regardless, she’s having a difficult time… processing it.

 

She’s dead, right? That’s a fact, there’s no way even the Ultimate Soldier could survive something like that. But the weird rabbit thing said she’s not, said she’s alive, and the current circumstances certainly seem to speak to as much, but then, why is Sayaka here, in that case? Why are Kiyotaka, Chihiro, and Hifumi acting so differently? Why do the despairs look the same as they did a couple years ago? Moreover, who are all the others? Mukuro couldn’t really be bothered to listen to their introductions; she heard a couple and hopped in when she felt it was appropriate, but their varying degrees of knowledge as well as the way they act around each other just strike her as… weird.

 

Well, there’s a good explanation for at least one of those things. If Mahiru Koizumi is correct, they’re all people who were killed in their killing games. For Mukuro that’s a bit strange to hear, because sure she died (Junko killed her) but not in the way that would warrant her being put on the same level as someone like Sayaka, who was killed by a blackened. Leon, if she remembers correctly, and the thought makes her feel sad, though she’s not sure why.

 

But, that’s still weird, because, killing  _ games?  _ Who else would host a killing game, what would be the reason? Mukuro is well aware of the fact that Junko wasn’t really planning on surviving that game she was hosting with their class, and perhaps on some level she’s always felt that Makoto would’ve put an end to all that crap, so why would another killing game have to occur? Unless it’s to do with those kids Junko is so fond of, the ones in Towa City, but if that blue-haired cosplayer was the “mastermind” of one of them, then she doubts it’s Monaca’s doing. Monaca wouldn’t associate with somebody so bland.

 

Even if they are all victims, and that’s the correlation, that still doesn’t account for the fact that they’re alive. The explanation that robot gave was awfully bare-bones, Mukuro wouldn’t trust it with a grain of salt. There to heal? Please. There’s got to be something else going on. She’s going to have to remain diligent until she figures out what’s going on here. Until then, she-

 

“Hey, hey, miss soldier lady!” A pair of purple eyes pops up in front of Mukuro and she startles, reacting without thinking and grabbing the offender by the throat, spinning around and slamming him against the wall. She’s been sitting in the airport for the past half hour or so, reluctant to go somewhere that’s more populated (and that handbook she found in her pocket has been allowing her to keep tabs on everyone else, so it’s been a simple task overall) so actually, she just slammed the guy against an airplane, which, oops. Upon blinking and realising that maybe he’s not here to kill her, Mukuro relaxes her grip and steps back, but still keeps herself within striking range. “Okay, yikes.” The boy- the purple-haired one who called Nagito crusty a few times, Kokichi or something- coughs, putting a hand on his throat. “Been a while since  _ that’s  _ happened, I wasn’t prepared.”

 

“Sorry.” Mukuro makes an effort to relax her shoulders. He’s annoying, for sure, but that doesn’t warrant outright hostility. She should try to be kinder, at least outwardly. “Force of habit. You okay?”

 

“Not really,” he grabs at his throat, sniffling, and his eyes well with tears. “When you did that, it r-reminded me of my old boyfriend, and I-” suddenly the boy bursts into tears, and Mukuro is alarmed. She really doesn’t know how to handle crying people- or in fact, people in general- so this is distressing. She panics a little but reaches out, maybe to touch his shoulder, apologies forming on her lips.

 

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

 

Suddenly Kokichi stops, wiping away the excess tears, and a large grin spreads over his features, and it’s far more cunning than the smile he wore at the beach earlier. His eyes are darker, somehow, in a way she can’t really describe. It occurs to Mukuro that she just got played. “I’m over it, but thanks.” He tells her, examining his fingernails idly, and Mukuro feels her eye twitch with what is either irritation or amusement.

 

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious.” She responds snidely, running a hand through her hair. “Don’t freak me out like that, my first reaction is usually physical violence and you don’t strike me as particularly strong.”

 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Kokichi says flippantly, and Mukuro can’t help but snort. She wasn’t holding onto his throat very tightly, and certainly not enough to do any damage, but a few bruises are starting to peek out from under his scarf. Pretty bold words for a guy who she absolutely could’ve killed, just now. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me, I could totally call out a hitman and leave you a measly spot of grease on the pavement, y’know!” Somehow it feels less like a threat and more like a kid whining. Mukuro likens him to Junko in her mind, but less overtly malicious. He’s probably just a kid.

 

“Yeah, what was your talent again? Ultimate Cartoon Villain?” Mukuro mocks with a lazy raise of her eyebrows, and Kokichi pouts, but quickly loses the expression as he springs up off the airplane, which he’s been lounging against since she held him there. He moves with remarkable agility, she notes, and while his steps carry the air of somebody who is carefree, they’re well-placed, as though he’s calculating each and every one of them. As much as he seems like he’s not thinking as he leans in her face again, she has too keen of an eye to think that. More like, he’s a practiced manipulator, and acts in that way to get her guard down, but is still keeping his far up.

 

It makes sense. She did just attack him, after all. “So, Mukuro Ikusaba, huh?” He asks coyly, fluttering his eyelashes as he tilts his head to the side. It’s an innocent expression but somehow the half-lidded eyes strike her as cunning before they do cute. It’s a face she’s seen on Junko before, but unlike with Junko, she can’t read Kokichi’s intent. She should tread lightly. “What was Komaeda talking about earlier, hm?”

 

“Elaborate,” it’s not so much a command as it is a request, but Mukuro keeps her tone flat so that Kokichi knows she means business. He barely bats an eye as he complies.

 

“He called you the Ultimate Despair.” So he’s wondering about that, huh? It’s understandable, it’s a pretty suspicious thing to call someone, even if that edgy tennis player was right when he said that things like hope and despair are perhaps too broad to assign titles for. Still, it’s obvious he knows nothing about Junko, or about Hope’s Peak Academy, or the Tragedy, because otherwise he wouldn’t have that mindset. “What did he mean by that? Are you a dangerous person? Can you be trusted?”   
  


“If I said that you can trust me,” Mukuro begins carefully. “Would you take my word for it?”

 

Kokichi blinks at her, his expression blank, and pauses, as though he’s sizing her up. Then a smile appears on his face and he nearly dances away, again demonstrating that calculated agility. Mukuro is certain she could beat him in a fight, but it wouldn’t hurt to have him on her side. “Good move!” He praises brightly. “It’s an evasive answer but you’re right, I probably wouldn’t, huh?” He grins. “As a supreme leader, I have to be a super good judge of character, y’know? Last time I trusted someone untrustworthy they murdered my parents!” He lets out a weird laugh, and Mukuro raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s a lie, of course, that was me who did that.”   
  


“I’m sure.” Mukuro responds flatly.

 

“Wow, you really don’t kid around, huh, Ikusaba?” Kokichi tilts his head to the side. “Even the Ultimate Detective believed my lies at first!”

 

Mukuro sincerely,  _ sincerely _ doubts that Kyoko would fall for something like that, so she has no choice but to believe that it’s a different detective he’s talking about and refrains from commenting.

 

“But maybe that’s a lie, too, that I wouldn’t trust you! Maybe I’d give you the benefit of the doubt!” Kokichi continues, seemingly oblivious to her skepticism, and she has to admire his perseverance at least a little bit. It’s constantly having to deal with Junko’s behaviour that’s made her impervious to his bullshit, but she would’ve gotten bored and moved on by now. Mukuro doubts the two of them are similar anywhere beyond surface-level characteristics. Kokichi’s behaviour seems to be less of a method of appeasing his boredom, more a front he puts up to get a good feel for the people around him. He’s clearly not as calculating as Junko if he needs to do that; she’s able to predict everyone around her, all the time, but still, she can appreciate the similarities between them.

 

Mukuro is confident with a little more time she could get a good feel for Kokichi’s intentions, but she’s not sure she wants to risk him doing the same to her. He’s been watching her this whole time, she knows, thinking about her like she’s been thinking about him, and as much as she doesn’t think it’s a good idea to hide things from people when Nagito so clearly knows who she is, she doesn’t want to risk somebody unpredictable like Kokichi knowing too much just yet. Still, she can’t really think of a good way to shake him off. “I think the first one was the truth.” She tells him, if only to keep the conversation going.

 

Not that she particularly cares to, but it seems rude to just let it fall. “Yeah, okay.” Kokichi rolls his eyes. “Sure, go ahead, be smart or whatever, see if I care. That’s really boring.” He smiles slightly. “Well, maybe not  _ too  _ boring. It’s nice to see that as a soldier you’re not just some lame killing machine.”   
  


“...thanks.” Actually, that’s exactly what she is; the reasoning and observational skills are just things that make her even better at what she does, is all. She’s not about to reject the compliment, though. It’s a stark contrast from Junko’s usual treatment of her, and anyway, anyone likes getting a little bit of praise once in a while, she rationalises, even if it is from a purple-haired gremlin.

 

Perhaps Kokichi is going to say something else, but before he can do so, somebody else steps into the airport. Mukuro’s a little irritated by this. She was pretty sure she could get outrun Kokichi if the conversation went places she didn’t want it to, but with more than one person here, her chances are becoming increasingly slim. Of course, she could make an excuse and leave  _ now,  _ but that would be rude, wouldn’t it? And there’s no way Kokichi wouldn’t comment on it, because Mukuro knows from a few minutes of conversation, he’s that kind of a person.

 

When she sees that it’s the cosplayer, though, the one who was supposedly the mastermind of a different killing game, Mukuro decides she’s willing to take her chances. Before she can so much as move, however, a hand lands on her arm, squeezes quickly and falls away. Startled, she looks at Kokichi for some kind of explanation, but he’s looking straight ahead, not at her in the slightest, and she realises maybe it’s because of the cosplayer. What, Tsumugi, was her name? Regardless of the name of the girl, Mukuro gets the feeling she’s not somebody who Kokichi would be fond of, if he was in the killing game she masterminded. (A twinge of guilt hits Mukuro at the thought, so foreign she barely recognises it, and she shoves it away.)

 

Maybe he doesn’t want to be alone with Tsumugi? She looks at the blue-haired girl, and sees that she’s smiling in a non-threatening way. Her hands are hanging empty at her sides, her posture open and easy like somebody who not only has nothing to hide but is in the company of good friends. When she and Mukuro make eye contact, Tsumugi’s smile brightens, and the soldier awkwardly returns the expression- but there’s no doubt about it that something is lurking beneath those teal eyes, something she doesn’t really want to joust with.

 

So, maybe she won’t leave Kokichi alone, for now. Even if this is pretty uncomfortable.

 

“Ikusaba, Ouma, hi!” Tsumugi greets brightly, and stops when she arrives in front of them. Kokichi’s expression is guarded, but subtly, and eventually a smile adorns his features, though Mukuro is certain that it’s not real. Still, she forces herself to focus on the cosplayer, wondering if it would be inappropriate for her to refrain from acting friendly. Maybe it would, considering the fact that she’s already attempted to return the smile Tsumugi gave a second ago.

 

“How’s it going, Shirogane?” Kokichi asks cooly. “Are you having fun spending time around the people whose deaths you caused?” Okay, yikes, he really isn’t holding back, huh? Mukuro clenches her jaw and says nothing, looking over to Tsumugi to see how the cosplayer is going to respond.

 

Perhaps predictably, the girl just smiles in a weirdly disconnected fashion. “I’m doing really well, actually! I never dreamed that I’d get to be in the Neo-World Program! This is pretty much a cosplayer’s fantasy, you know!” She definitely chose to answer only the first part of Kokichi’s question, but alright. She did that earlier, too, when the people from her killing game were yelling at her. The robot mentioned that she was one of the people who wasn’t a victim in one of the killing games, but if she’s here, anyway… is it possible that she died too? Mukuro wonders how that happened, if she got executed, or…

 

“I bet.” Kokichi responds tersely. He’s an excellent liar, Mukuro is certain of that, but the look in his eye is… oddly righteous. It’s hard to describe. But the air is charged, all of a sudden, and when she looks back at Tsumugi, she sees Kokichi’s expression is almost reflected in her eyes. She’s not sure where the sudden anger is coming from, but she can read the air well enough to tell that unless she intervenes, what happens next isn’t going to be pretty.

 

“Tell me about the program we’re in.” She finds herself blurting, and the tension cracks, shattering as Kokichi and Tsumugi both look at her. Mukuro keeps her gaze on the cosplayer though, remains impassive the way that she would on a battlefield. “You know something about this simulation, right? The Neo-World Program, you and the robot have been calling it. If you know something, you should share it.”

 

“Oh? Would you trust the information that I’d be giving you?” The glint in Tsumugi’s eye is odd, as though she’s not appraising a person but an object that she is very fond of. It makes Mukuro want to fire a bullet through her skull but due in part to her lack of guns and the fact that Kokichi doesn’t seem to have calmed down well enough to throw his mask back on yet, she refrains, instead choosing to address the peculiarity of Tsumugi’s statement.

 

“You were the mastermind of your killing game, yeah?” Mukuro asks, and she’s absolutely bluffing, because she has no idea why someone other than her sister would mastermind a killing game, but it’s no matter. “That’s why you say I wouldn’t trust you.”   
  


Tsumugi nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I’m referring to, alright.”

 

“But you have no power here.” Mukuro states this as simply as she can, and it’s a bluff too, because of course she has no  _ idea  _ if Tsumugi has any power here or not. But based on the way the cosplayer’s gaze hardens, she knows immediately that her bluff payed off. Celeste would be proud of her. Now she just needs to wrap it up nicely. “So why would you lie now? To me, of all people? You know who we are, probably extensively.” She recalls the remark Tsumugi made earlier, about having cosplayed as all of them. “You know that I could kill you in a second if I even thought there was a chance you were lying to me. Why risk it when you’re suddenly alive again? But even if that wasn’t the case,” she continues, messing with her cuticle out of the desire to make the girl sweat a little more than the desire to fidget. “I doubt you’d lie about something you’re so clearly obsessed with.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, wherein Kokichi straight up stares at her, blank-faced, as Tsumugi attempts to process the words that came out of her mouth. Mukuro is unused to having that much attention- it certainly isn’t her favourite thing in the world- but she fights to keep her expression blank, finds it gets easier after a moment. Based on the way that Tsumugi’s brow has furrowed, she’s hit the jackpot- the only question is how the cosplayer is going to respond. But she shouldn’t have to wait too long. Someone here is bound to break the silence eventually.

 

“...impressive.” Tsumugi finally breathes. “I knew you were skilled, but I never realised the extent of your observational skills… oh, in all my time researching the tragedy I never saw…” god, can this girl be any more weird? Thankfully it seems like Kokichi is on the same page, at least, because the corners of his lips tilt down in a tiny frown when the cosplayer speaks. “Well, anyway, I’m super down to explain the Neo-World Program, since I’m probably the only one here who could, except maybe Usami.” She smiles. “But-”

 

Before she can continue, the door to the airport slams open again, and somebody else steps through. Thank god, it’s one of the people Mukuro is actually well acquainted with- one of the despairs, actually, though at the moment Nekomaru doesn’t look like he did when he was under the effects of the brainwashing video, so she’s going to assume that this is some odd version of Nekomaru from before the Tragedy. It makes a little bit of sense that the despairs wouldn’t remember any of that- it would be hard for them to be rehabilitated under the effects of the video- but it’s still jarring for Mukuro to see a version of her upperclassmen from years ago.

 

“Ikusaba, Ouma, Shirogane!” Nekomaru yells, and he doesn’t have to be that loud, but it’s par for the course with him. (Kokichi relaxes when Tsumugi’s back is turned, and Mukuro finds herself grateful Nekomaru chose that moment to show up.) “You should all come with me!”

 

“Huh? Why’s that?” Tsumugi speaks first, which rubs Mukuro the wrong way for some reason, but she holds her tongue.

 

“Yeah, what’s up, Nidai?” Kokichi’s smiling again, bouncing forward and standing on his toes to peer into the coach’s face. (Nekomaru seems undeterred.) “Are you asking us to go with you for a giant orgy? Or maybe you’re just gonna kill us? Because, hate to break it to you, but you’re a bit late for that! Nishishi,” it’s an odd laugh but Mukuro smiles despite herself, glad that Kokichi’s feeling safer. On another note, weird older-sibling feelings towards that rat over there are in fact weird.

 

“No, I’d never!” Nekomaru protests, though Mukuro notes he doesn’t deny the orgy suggestion. “I’m saying you should all come with me to go swimming! Yonaga asked me when I walked by to come collect people.”

 

“Swimming?” Mukuro echoes. “Where, in the pool? Or-”

 

“The pool, that’s right!” Nekomaru is grinning, and Mukuro has to admit it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, but it’s out of the blue, and they don’t really have swim suits. “Amami and Koizumi are there already as well!”

 

“Well, if Rantaro’s there, then I  _ have  _ to go!” Kokichi exclaims. “C’mon, Mukuro!” Uh, using her given name, really? “It’ll probably be fun!”

 

“I don’t know if I’m willing to swim in my clothes for probably.” Mukuro frowns.

 

“Hey, hey, gimme a piggy back ride!” Kokichi has already moved on; he’s nudging Nekomaru’s arm like a petulant toddler. Predictably, Nekomaru turns around and bends over to allow the supreme leader to crawl up. (He’s enabling him but Mukuro doesn’t care enough to try to stop it. Nekomaru will either learn or end up doing as Kokichi pleases for the rest of time.) “Let’s go!”

 

Mukuro notes that he doesn’t acknowledge Tsumugi but doesn’t comment, doesn’t question, because she’s got a pretty good idea already as to what’s going on. When Nekomaru starts off towards the pool, though, she finds herself unwilling to stick around alone with the cosplayer after that exchange, and hurries after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhere it is, earlier than usual because my brother has been proof-reading these and I wanna get caught up as quickly as I can before he goes to camp at the end of this week ;;
> 
> akfjbasdljfsd I love Mukuro she's one of my many many wives and she deserves the world
> 
> like Rantaro she got killed off before the viewer could see very much of her and it's not gucci man :((( she deserved hella attention
> 
> at any rate uwu I hope uwuwuwu you enjoyed uwuwuwuwuwu
> 
> I got a lotta shit to get done but hopefully I'll get out a couple more chapters before Sunday bye read my brother's fic


	6. Prologue VI: How far is that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chihiro POV.

Through deliberating with everyone here who Chihiro recognises, they determine that Hifumi was alive the longest, out of all of them. Compared to every other group of people here, of which Chihiro decides there are three, theirs is definitely the smallest, but that’s not such a bad thing, in his opinion. It just means that their killing game had the least victims, and they could be worse off. If there was a huge group of people here, he’d probably be more inclined to be upset.

 

As things are, he’s a little nervous, but he isn’t entirely in the mood to get into it at the moment. He’s glad that nobody else from their class was murdered, though it doesn’t make him happy to see five people there because it means five others got executed. Actually, seeing that anyone died doesn’t really bring him bucketloads of joy. He’d been so sure, going to meet Mondo that night, that nobody else was going to commit murder… but apparently he was wrong, if Kiyotaka and Hifumi are here.

 

Also, a bit of an unrelated side note, but Chihiro really has no idea who Mukuro Ikusaba is. Well, obviously, she’s Junko- at least, that’s the face he sees in hers, but she corrected Sayaka both times the idol called her Junko, and introduced herself as the  _ Ultimate Soldier-  _ plus, she doesn’t look like Junko, aside from the face. Chihiro supposes it isn’t any of his business, why Mukuro would have been pretending to be the idol when they were all trapped inside the school together, but he still has to wonder about it. She was really kind to him when she was dressed up as Junko; it made it particularly difficult to see her killed. He hopes she’s not adverse to the idea of interacting with him, because he liked talking to her, albeit briefly.

 

Kiibo, Hifumi, and Nagito all sit together near the water. Nagito asks a question, a seemingly innocent one, perhaps about if Kiibo will be okay in the water, and the robot responds cheerfully that he’s fully waterproof. Chihiro is intrigued by the robot’s presence as a whole. He’d love to look at the boy more closely, examine his AI, but that would be rude. Still, it seems someone else has succeeded at creating a piece of artificial intelligence with a soul, and Chihiro would be lying if he said he didn’t want to compare notes.

 

As he turns to walk away from the group, a hand falls on his shoulder and he turns around, a small, nervous smile appearing on his face by nature. Sayaka stands there, looking a little awkward, and he can’t really blame her. She died first, after all, so she probably knows even less about everything that’s happening here than he does. It’s a bit daunting for her to be standing so close to him- how does she manage to look so nice, smell so pleasant, and have such a lovely voice?- but he swallows down his anxiety in favour of attempting to relax his smile so that she doesn’t feel awkward.

 

“Could I explore the island with you, by chance, Fujisaki?” Sayaka asks, and she doesn’t sound nervous, per se, so much as she sounds apprehensive, and Chihiro finds himself nodding before he fully comprehends what she’s asking. When her request registers in his head, though, he smiles a little more easily, because of course he wouldn’t mind the company.

 

Well, alright. There is the glaring fact that Sayaka tried to kill Leon before she died, but that was a situation Chihiro doesn’t feel he can place judgement on. Seeing his father in that motive video really freaked him out! He’s a pacifist to a fault, of course, and nothing could ever make him violate that particular belief, but in Sayaka’s position, with what he heard from Makoto, he’s not sure he’d have been able to stop himself from doing the exact same thing. Not only that, but he did overhear Kyoko and Makoto talking afterwards, and… well, Sayaka hesitated, that’s what Kyoko said. She might have just been saying that to comfort Makoto, but still, with that at the front of his mind, it’s not impossible to think she might not have gone through with it regardless of whether or not Leon chose to fight back. And there’d be no reason for her to do it again.

 

Plus, Chihiro does consider himself to be fairly levelheaded, but he’s still a teenager and thus weak to the desire to spend time around pretty girls his age. (Or attractive guys his age, come to think of it- the reason he asked Makoto to help him get stronger initially was partially surface level.) Besides, he’s already said yes, what would he do, rescind his agreement?  _ Uhm, actually, nevermind, you can’t, bye!  _ That’s not really his style.

 

“O-Of course,” he stammers, cursing himself for being so socially inept. He really doesn’t want to be a walking computer geek stereotype but he can’t exactly help it. “I’m a bit nervous about looking around this place alone.”

 

“Have you checked your student handbook yet?” Sayaka gestures for him to start walking so he does, and she falls into step next to him. Chihiro shakes his head but takes out the device in question, swiping through. There are a number of things about it that stick out to him; it’s certainly more high-tech than the handbook he received back when they were trapped in Hope’s Peak, but the mechanics are essentially the same. He notes that the map can track everyone else’s locations and wonders vaguely if the other handbook had that feature. It’s possible it did and he just didn’t notice, but Chihiro isn’t holding his breath.

 

“It looks like there are five islands around one central island. Uhm, we’re on the one marked the first,” he informs Sayaka awkwardly, and she nods, inviting him to continue. “If we want to do this systematically, we should look around this island since we’re already here, and then the central island, and then move on to the others…” he trails off, feeling his cheeks warm a little. “That’s, how I’d do it programming something, I’d start from top to bottom, is that okay with you? We can look somewhere else first if you want.” Somehow he feels nervous talking to her, despite the fact that Sayaka’s smile is open, warm, and non-threatening.

 

Still, she quickly shakes her head, waving her hands. “No, I think that’s a great idea!” She assures him, eyelashes fluttering in a way that’s kind rather than coy. “Let’s start at uh… the airport, over there!” Sayaka points and he follows her finger, gaze trailing between the map and where she’s indicating to see if that would be the most efficient use of their time. (Not that he’d say no to her regardless.) Though it seems that the airport would logically be their first destination, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

 

Chihiro smiles, brushing a few pieces of chestnut hair behind an ear as he nods. “Okay! Let’s do it.” He agrees. They make their way over the airport, shoulders brushing as they walk, and he decides to make a little more conversation, because walking in silence just feels uncomfortable. “I wonder if they have real, working planes there…” he ponders the idea of it, deciding that it feels rather silly to have such a thing be the case, if they’re supposed to stay there. Also, he realises suddenly, if Kiibo was right earlier when he said they’re in a simulation, then there would be no reason for the planes to go. Nowhere to go but the places that are coded. Likely these islands are the extent of where whoever created this simulation intended for participants to head.

 

It’s exciting for him, really, to actually be in a simulation, with not one but  _ two  _ functional AIs and such a realistic, flushed out world around him. Experimentally Chihiro drums his fingers against the back of his student handbook, feels a surge of excitement upon feeling the cool, hard surface underneath his nails. He’s never known of a program that could simulate real sensations to this extent, it’s mind blowing. Even if he’s not really sure why he’s here, or how he’s even alive, for that matter (he died, didn’t he? That weight sure felt real, being slammed against his skull) it’s exciting to be in a simulation nonetheless. As the Ultimate Programmer, he supposes it’s alright for him to be happy about this sort of thing, regardless of their circumstances. Though it does feel odd to be so exuberant after just dying. It feels like only last night he was sneaking out into the boys locker room to meet Mondo…

 

“Probably not,” Sayaka is saying. “I mean, I doubt anyone here can pilot an airplane, unless I’m really wrong about the definition of programming,” and she shoots an uncharacteristically wry grin in Chihiro’s direction before continuing. “But either way, I don’t think that Usami would leave us a means of escaping. That would defeat the purpose of bringing us here, huh?”

 

“...yeah, it would.” Chihiro eventually agrees, nodding his head. He slides his student handbook into his pocket, map momentarily forgotten, and rubs the back of his neck. “U-Uhm, Maizono, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course, what is it?” She smiles brightly at him, in a manner that is likely supposed to ease his nerves, but he just feels his heart skip a little.

 

“Do you trust Usami?” He’d try harder to word this carefully but to be frank he doubts that Usami is the type to be monitoring their conversations, or trying to intervene when the topic of distrust comes up in conversation. As much as he’s not really sure how competent the rabbit is (though it feels mean to judge her so quickly, considering that she seems to be trying her best) he doesn’t think she has any bad intentions. Maybe Chihiro is a bad judge of character. Things did go pretty badly with Mondo, after all. But he doesn’t read Usami as a hostile presence. And something about her is… familiar, to him, in a way he can’t really put his finger on.

 

Sayaka seems to consider his question, tapping her chin with one finger as her blue eyes swivel up to the sky. The fluffy white clouds that she tracks across the expanse of blue are so rich Chihiro can see why they might be fake. The programming is good enough that all the clouds look quite different from each other, making their way across the sky, but there must be a loop somewhere in there. Unless the programmer really sat down and coded every single individual raindrop in those clouds. And like, kudos to them, if they did, but everything here is so detailed, Chihiro really has to wonder if there’s even a possibility of that being the case.

 

He scuffs the dirt beneath his feet with the toe of one of his mary janes, frowning. How much work was really put into making this place, for the particles of dirt to be so detailed? He wants to bend over and pick some up, dirty his fingers, but he and Sayaka are still walking, and he figures it would be rude to stop over something arbitrary like that. To be honest Chihiro aspires to be so detail-oriented in his coding. He likes to think that he has a talent for fine details but it’s not as simple as putting in a couple lines of code. It’s his passion, something he likes to do and enjoys on more than a surface level type of way, but he’d get tired out pretty quickly if he was being so thorough. Of course, virtual reality isn’t exactly his area of expertise, but the point still stands.

 

“I don’t distrust her.” Sayaka finally decides on an answer, meeting Chihiro’s eyes again. “I mean, I think she’s harmless, but I don’t like that she won’t give us all the details about our situation. It’s pretty suspicious that we’re all alive again, after all!” She says it pleasantly but Chihiro can tell from her tone that she’s not exactly super happy about everything that’s been going on. Part of him wonders if she’s troubled too, about what happened to her and the sudden shift to this reality. She has to be; there’s no way she’s not upset about dying and suddenly being alive again, around all these other people who claim to be experiencing the same thing.

 

No wonder she doesn’t want to travel around alone. Chihiro nods. “I agree-” he breaks off. “But I’m also trying to be mindful of what Saionji said, about…” he averts his gaze, not wanting to echo Hiyoko’s words because they were rather harsh. Still, Sayaka seems to understand what he’s talking about, because she nods at him.

 

Before either of them can continue their conversation, they arrive at the airport, and in the interest of being a gentleman (though Sayaka is certainly still under the impression that he’s a girl) he steps out and pulls the door open for her. The idol giggles and thanks him, poking her head through and looking around. Chihiro juggles the door between his hands and eventually props it open with his foot before following suit, doing a quick sweep of the area.   
  


It’s an airport- there’s not much else to say about it. The space is empty of people aside from Mukuro, who is standing next to the window and staring out at all the planes. Chihiro wants to go in and check to see if any of the planes are usable, because even if he doesn’t think that’s going to be the case he should still check and make sure, but Mukuro doesn’t look like she wants to be disturbed right now. The energy surrounding her doesn’t necessarily feel dark, but she feels pensive, and he thinks it’s probably in his best interests not to disturb her while she’s thinking.

 

He trades a look with Sayaka and they both step out of the doorway. Chihiro closes it gently behind him and they start walking again, along the beach, this time in the direction of the large restaurant on the edge of the island. Before they arrive, though, they pass by a farm, and Chihiro notices a couple people standing inside the fence, so he glances over at Sayaka and they walk over.

 

The people ambling around in the farm are not people who were in Chihiro’s killing game, but he’s always been pretty good at matching names to faces- one of them is Miu, the blonde inventor who he recalls as having been rather vulgar, and the other is Tenko, the aikido master. She was also rather boisterous during her introduction, though it doesn’t seem like she’s very fond of boys. That might be a problem for Chihiro if not, well, for the obvious. (Bitterly he thinks that maybe he’d prefer it the other way, but after how things turned out when he told Mondo… maybe better to keep that information to himself for the moment while he attempts to figure out the people he’s here with.)

 

At the moment, Miu seems to be distracted with one of the chickens here, cooing something to it in a strangely tender way, which is a trait Chihiro wasn’t initially expecting from her. Tenko, on the other hand, is standing uncomfortably near the barn, looking troubled. In the interest of figuring out what’s up, Chihiro angles his body towards her and Sayaka picks up on his intentions, so they both walk over.

 

“Oh, Fujisaki, Maizono!” Tenko perks up, but the darkened look is still present on her features. Chihiro gives her a onceover. Her hair is long and dark, done in a pair of loopy ponytails. She’s wearing a large, floppy green bow that accentuates her pretty olive green irises. Her eyelashes are long but thin, widely dispersed around her eyes, which bear the appearance of being lined with black makeup. She’s pretty, Chihiro decides, though maybe not his type- her loud personality would probably overwhelm him. (Not that he’s thinking about romance right now, but the thought still surfaces.) “Hi, are you two looking around?” She asks brightly.

 

“That’s right!” Sayaka smiles, nodding quickly. “But we haven’t seen much yet, just the airport. I didn’t know there’d be a farm here!” She says this with an air of wistfulness, tucking blue strands of hair behind her ear as she looks around. “I’ve never been on a farm before.”

 

“Really?” Chihiro asks. He prefers to stay inside, but he’s been on a farm before on a couple school trips. It’s not his scene but he doesn’t mind it at all. The quiet atmosphere, the smell of hard work and the animals, it’s pleasant, even if it’s something he wouldn’t like to engage with on a daily basis. “I guess this is a pretty good time to look around… I wonder if we could milk these cows. Do you think it would be worth asking Usami?”

 

“I wouldn’t trust that robot as far as I can throw her!” Miu butts in, and Chihiro sees that she’s stood up and walked over to join their conversation. Obligingly he moves to the side a little to allow her to stand closer, in the interest of not excluding her.

 

“How far is that?” Tenko asks with wide eyes.

 

“Maybe not as far as you, Miss Butch,” and that is a  _ very  _ rude word to use against another person but Chihiro simply presses his lips together and chooses not to comment. “But pretty fuckin’ far! And I wouldn’t trust her for a single meter of it!”

 

“That’s fair, but I don’t think she’s here to hurt us,” Sayaka says placatingly, echoing the contents of her and Chihiro’s conversation earlier, on the way to the airport. “I don’t think it’s fair to judge her yet when we’re not really sure what she’s about. She seems pretty harmless so far!” Chihiro nods, to show that he supports what Sayaka is saying, because of course, it’s pretty in synch with what they discussed, and they were in agreement earlier, and nothing has happened to make him change his mind.

 

Miu seems to think about that for a minute. “I guess that makes some sense,” she responds eventually, looking cross. “But I still don’t want to trust a robot that looks so much like that cunt Monokuma did!” She scowls, and Chihiro thinks that that’s also a pretty wise judgement to make, though perhaps undeserved; there are several notable differences between Usamia and Monokuma that he  _ could  _ draw attention to, but on the other hand…

 

“Tenko isn’t sure what to think!” Tenko offers, and Chihiro turns his attention onto the aikido master, a little bit concerned at the uncertainty in her eyes. “I mean, I guess I haven’t had much time to think about it, being… alive, again…” she hesitates. “Well, that doesn’t bother me that much, I guess, since it’s not something people are generally upset about.”

 

“Yeah, I think that’s the thing I’m happiest about, if anything,” Sayaka agrees, but then softens, reaching out to gently touch Tenko’s shoulder. “What’s worrying you, though, Chabashira?”

 

Tenko’s face reddens when she looks between Sayaka’s hand and face, and Chihiro relates. “U-Uhm, just- well, you don’t know her, but- what Kiibo said about Yumeno is bothering me.”   
  


“About her, the beta detective, and little miss assassin being dead?” Miu guesses, and Tenko pales, but nods. “Yeah, I guess that would fuck you up, you totally had the hots for that girl, even though her tits were microscopic!” Miu laughs, as if that isn’t a super inappropriate thing to say.

 

Once again, Tenko’s face flushes, but this time with anger. “Don’t talk about Yumeno that way, alright? She-” she breaks off, sighing. “Tenko is worried about her, the last thing she wants is for something to have happened! She was so… I don’t know how to describe it, unwilling to confront her emotions? When Tenko got killed. And for her to have sacrificed her life, like Kiibo said…” Tenko trails off, looking troubled, and Chihiro thinks that as much as it sucks not knowing what’s been happening to every one of his friends who  _ isn’t  _ here, it would suck much more to know that they’re gone.

 

“Don’t give up hope in her, okay?” Chihiro says quietly, and despite himself he reaches out to take Tenko’s hand. The aikido master widens her eyes, looking at Chihiro as though she wasn’t really seeing him a moment ago. “Even if she is dead, if she sacrificed her life, it was for a really good reason. And if you cared about her that much, then she must’ve been thinking about that, too, when she did it. Besides, we’re alive, right? So maybe…” he trails off, hoping Tenko will catch his drift without him having to say it, because of course he doesn’t want to lie to her about what might’ve happened to her friend. Still, he can’t bear seeing the dejected look on her face.

 

“You… you’re right, Fujisaki!” Tenko eventually exclaims, beaming. “Tenko shouldn’t lose hope in Yumeno! I’m sure she’s okay!” She pulls Chihiro into a tight hug, and he lets out a squeak but reciprocates. Sure, she’s not exactly his type but being hugged by a pretty girl is going to make him super nervous regardless! “Thank you! You’re a really sweet person, I’m glad I’m here with a bunch of wonderful girls!” Well, that sucks, but… he’ll tell everyone the truth eventually. Tenko releases him from the hug and reaches out to hug Sayaka too. “You too, Maizono!”

 

Sayaka, conversely, laughs and cheerfully returns Tenko’s embrace. “I’m happy too! I really didn’t think that I’d… after what happened…” she trails off, and Chihiro suddenly understands her hesitation. When she and Tenko pull apart, he gets a good look at her face. The sudden guilt in her eyes makes his chest feel odd, painful, and he reaches out to touch her arm, giving her a meaningful look.

 

“I think he forgave you for it, y’know? Naegi did.” He tells her quietly, and Sayaka’s eyes widen slightly.

 

“He did? I mean- I expected Kuwata would tell everyone what happened, in his defense, but-”

 

“No, Naegi and Kirigiri figured it all out themselves. Kuwata was fighting until the end.” Chihiro really doesn’t want to talk about this but he feels obligated to, because Sayaka missed so much of it all. She’s looking at him, a pained expression on her face, and for some reason that makes him feel compelled to keep talking. “But… you hesitated, right? You didn’t wanna betray Naegi, even if it was for something like getting out so that you could get to your friends, and the outside world.”   
  


“...you guys even figured out that much…?” Sayaka asks faintly and she rubs her wrist, as though remembering how it felt when Leon broke it. Chihiro feels oddly angry, though not at her, when he sees the shame in her averted eyes. It’s the same righteous anger Makoto must have felt, when he lashed out and tried to attack Monokuma after the trial. When he said what he did, about how it wasn’t Sayaka or Leon’s fault what had happened, but Monokuma’s fault. The fault of whoever it was that had trapped them all in there. As much as he was worried about spending time with Sayaka earlier, he knows in this moment he could never blame her for what happened. That wasn’t her fault at all. That wasn’t any of their faults, not Leon’s either, and… not Mondo’s, even though Mondo killed him. It was Monokuma’s. He needs to remember that, just in case… the victims aren’t the only ones who are alive again. (After all, if it’s true for Tenko’s friend, then why not everyone else?)

 

“I don’t know what Kirigiri’s talent was, but it must’ve been something smart, because she really unraveled the whole case.” Chihiro responds with a small smile. “Nobody blamed you. Uhm, I know I don’t blame you.” He pauses, wondering if he should say something else. Is that really going to be enough? After what happened, he’s not sure if his words are even going to get through to her, much less make her feel better. But maybe it’s unrealistic to expect that a measly pep talk is going to alleviate her guilt right away.

 

Regardless, Sayaka’s lips lift in a smile again, the sad expression evaporating slowly, and she reaches out to tug Chihiro into a hug. He’s startled again, because neither Sayaka nor Tenko gave him any warning before embracing him, but he manages to hug back, feeling rather awkward. “Thank you, Fujisaki, that means a lot more than I can express through words,” Sayaka murmurs, and Chihiro feels his face reddening, and he’s definitely gonna look like a firetruck if she doesn’t pull away soon, but he doesn’t mind so much, because he can still hear Sayaka’s smile through her voice.

 

“S-Sure, no problem,” he manages, and wonders if this was how Makoto felt.

 

The idol pulls away, her usual cheerful expression back on again, and she looks at Tenko and Miu, who seem to be standing somewhat uncomfortably to the side. It’s no wonder, really, that they wouldn’t be able to participate in that conversation- they weren’t in the same killing game as Chihiro and Sayaka, after all. But Tenko is smiling, her eyes bright, so Chihiro thinks maybe it’s not a bad kind of silence.

 

“Do you two-” Chihiro breaks off, hesitating. “Do you two wanna come explore the rest of the islands with us? We haven’t gone far yet, and we can loop back around to the airport if you guys haven’t seen it, but I’m sure we’d both love the company.” He glances at Sayaka for confirmation and she nods, lacing her fingers together in front of her skirt. She’s wearing the same thing she wore when she died, he notes- then again, so is he, so perhaps it’s not all that strange. It was a tad bit jarring for him, but when he woke up in that cottage to Mahiru knocking on his door, he saw that among other items, there was that blue track jacket resting near his bed in there. It’s a peculiar thing to have, but he supposes it doesn’t stick out too much, if this is truly a simulation.

 

“Tenko would love to!” Tenko declares, smiling wide, and Miu shrugs, muttering something about how she  _ doesn’t have anything better to do anyway, so I might as well spend some time with a bunch of titless dykes _ (which is another really rude thing to say!) and agrees to go with. Chihiro finds himself wondering if it’s really a good idea to bring Miu along, but he figures it would be rude to rescind the invitation after she’s already agreed, and perhaps there’s a reason for her vulgarity that he’s not picking up on at the moment. He shouldn’t judge her too harshly before understanding her circumstances better.

 

After determining that Tenko and Miu have both already checked out the airport (albeit cursory sweeps of the place, because like Chihiro and Sayaka, neither of them were particularly inclined to disturb the Ultimate Soldier in her presumed solitude) the four of them exit the farm, chattering aimlessly. Chihiro spaces off a little, looking up as he walks, wondering if it would be a pointless endeavour to attempt to memorise the clouds. As Tenko goes off on a tangent about something her friend Yumeno did, he takes out his student handbook, swiping past the main screen and checking the time.

 

It’s around four o’clock in the afternoon. That information shouldn’t mean much to him, and it doesn’t, really, but he makes note of it anyway, because it’ll be important tomorrow. As he looks back and forth between the screen of the handbook and the path in front of him, he opens up the camera application on the handbook and angles it towards the sky, snapping a picture of the clouds up there. If he checks on it again tomorrow at this time, he might be able to determine a pattern in the clouds that are being blown across the blue by the wind. He doesn’t distrust Kiibo, necessarily- the robot seems a trustworthy person, and he’s been treated as such by the others from his killing game, so Chihiro thinks he’s probably fine- but he’d still like to be able to ascertain for himself whether or not this is truly a simulation. And if it is, then there has to be some sort of loop in the clouds. Too much work to program the clouds to be truly random.

 

Besides, under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t matter. Nobody has the ability to memorise the clouds. Even if they did, it’s such a specific moment, it would be hard for anyone to tell when they’re the same as they were before. If you’re not actively thinking about it, Chihiro figures there’d be no reason to even use the clouds as a point of reference. That aside, even if he  _ was  _ actively thinking about it, it shouldn’t make much of a difference. But Chihiro is a programmer. He knows a thing or two about the effort it takes to put in those kinds of graphics. Sure, he’s never created a virtual world before, but he  _ knows  _ it’s not that simple. If he’s diligent, he’ll find a pattern eventually. He’ll just need to be consistent about it.

 

As they move towards the restaurant (and subsequently the hotel, where all their cottages are) Chihiro gives the area a sweeping glance. There are a number of shrubs and palm trees overlooking the winding cobblestone path. The cottages are ahead of them, of course, as are a number of important buildings, but nearer to them is the pool, which is currently taking on a vibrant shade of blue. The scent of chlorine is rather strong, and Chihiro isn’t a very strong swimmer, but it makes him smile anyway at the memories of time spent swimming. In general, though, those days have given him odd feelings- he’s always conflicted swimming around people who think he’s a girl, and that’s basically everybody.

 

The thoughts scatter when he sees the huge group of people standing around and messing around inside the pool. He doubts everyone has looked around all six of the islands in their entirety yet, but there is a good amount of people standing around that swimming pool. He counts maybe eight or nine, though it’s hard to estimate with people being inside the pool too.

 

“Oh! That looks fun!” Sayaka calls out, pointing over to the pool. “We should join them!”   
  


“What, do you secretly wanna see a bunch of mostly naked people?” Miu grins. “I knew idols were repressed, but I didn’t think it was like that!” Then she laughs, again acting as though those comments are acceptable. Chihiro frowns in her direction, pressing a little closer to Sayaka as if he could actually fend off the remarks.

 

Sayaka smiles blankly at Miu, unphased. “No, I just think it’s the perfect weather for a swim right now!” She looks over at Chihiro as she says this. “What do you think? Wanna join them for a bit?”

 

“Oh, I don’t have a swim suit or anything…” he trails off, uncertain. It’s not that he’s opposed to swimming in his clothes, he’s just a bit worried about the chlorine making his dress smell bad… he didn’t look around the cottage much but he’s not sure if there’s any extra clothing there for him…

 

“Don’t worry about it!” Tenko beams. “There’s a supermarket on this island near the airport, and they have clothes there!” Huh? Chihiro feels himself getting a little confused and pulls out his student handbook, opening up the map. Sure enough, there’s a supermarket right next to the airport. Maybe he and Sayaka just missed it? That’s awkward. “I didn’t see anything nice enough for a girl as cute as you are, but I’m sure we could find something! Tenko will help you look if you wanna swim, Fujisaki!”   
  


That’s such a sweet thing to say, he’s not even gonna think about being misgendered. “Well, if that’s the case, then…” he pauses. “I’m down to swim if you guys are!” He decides. It’s been so long since he’s gone swimming! In the killing game he was really hesitant to, even though Aoi and Sakura invited him a lot, because he didn’t want them to find out that he’s not a girl. But it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be a problem right now.

 

With a couple more enthusiastic shouts on both Tenko and Sayaka’s ends, the four of them make their way over to the crowd at the pool. Chihiro looks around, seeing that Angie and Rantaro are in the pool- as he watches, Angie reaches out and latches onto Mahiru’s ankle, dragging her in too. The photographer lets out a squeal but laughs when she resurfaces, splashing Angie as though she doesn’t really mind. Nekomaru is in there too, but he’s further out, perhaps having a splash war by himself.

 

Kokichi, Tsumugi, and surprisingly Mukuro are also standing at the edge of the pool. Upon seeing them walk over, Tsumugi waves (which Chihiro finds himself squinting at because they called her a mastermind earlier and that’s not a word he likes so much, applied to the other people here) and Kokichi grins, doing finger guns at Miu. The inventor gets an odd look on her face at that, one that is almost guilty, and Chihiro glances over at her, wondering what the history is there. Mukuro, conversely, seems to make eye contact with Sayaka and immediately look away, seeming troubled. A crease appears between her eyebrows.

 

There as well is Kiyotaka, and Chihiro swallows dry, because the moral compass was a sweet guy during the killing game (admittedly  _ rather  _ loud and easily excitable) but he’s been somewhat… fidgety? Perhaps that isn’t the correct word, but it’s difficult for Chihiro to explain. Kiyotaka didn’t used to act uncomfortable around him, but since he woke up in this supposed simulation… when they were all talking in an attempt to determine who lived the longest, Kiyotaka hardly addressed him at all, and even now, as he’s walking over, the moral compass is completely avoiding eye contact.

  
It’s… rather distressing, actually, Chihiro hopes he didn’t do something to hurt the other boy in some way.

 

“Yoohoo!” Angie greets from the water when they arrive, propping herself up on the edge of the pool with a wide smile and a tilt of her head. “Hello, Chihiro, Sayaka, Miu, and Tenko!” Tenko gives her an odd look, one of almost… exasperation? But Chihiro chooses to ignore it in favour of waving to the artist. Her clothes are sopping wet and her long white hair is a bit of a mess too- one of her two ponytails came undone so it’s all over the place. Still, though, she’s peering at them with bright, clear blue eyes through long eyelashes and it’s evident more than ever how pretty she is as she waves at them. “Are you here to join us? We’re having a lightening up party because Rantaro and Mahiru were being depressing!”   
  


One of the teens in question snorts, shaking his head and getting droplets of water everywhere. He reaches up to push the green locks out of his face and offers Chihiro a crooked smile, which is way too attractive on his stupid handsome face and Chihiro  _ really wishes he didn’t have so many horomones because all of these people are remarkably pretty.  _ “That’s my bad,” Rantaro offers by way of explanation. “But yeah, you guys can hop in, the water’s pretty excellent.”

 

“IT’S AWESOME!” Nekomaru confirms before throwing himself underwater with the strength of a pro swimmer. He’d give Aoi a run for her money, Chihiro thinks.

 

“I don’t need to be told to get in by degenerate males!” Tenko humphs, and she turns away, looking as though she’s almost lumping Angie in with them as well, which is sort of strange to see. Chihiro wonders what the situation is between them- though it’s worth noting the artist doesn’t pay her any mind, simply opting to splash Rantaro now that the conversation isn’t really focused on her. (The survivor sputters and, in accordance with good pool etiquette, splashes her back.)

 

“You should join us, Tenko!” Mahiru says, treading water with her hands to stay upright. Her vivid red hair is wet, weighed down by the water, and her smile is friendly, which is impressive seeing as she just got dragged into the pool by Angie.

 

When Mahiru says it, it’s like someone flipped a switch. “Oh, okay!” Tenko agrees.  _ Just like that?  _ Chihiro wonders, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, Tenko runs forward and jumps into the water. It makes a pretty huge splash, but she reemerges quickly and Mahiru is laughing as she playfully flicks water into the aikido master’s face.

 

Sayaka follows suit, slipping into the pool a little more gracefully than Tenko, and Kokichi grabs Miu’s attention only to shove her into the water with a loud cheer. Miu squeals going down and comes back up to the surface spitting cuss words, but the supreme leader only laughs. At least, that’s until Mukuro sneaks up behind him and grabs his arm, dragging him with her as she jumps into the pool. It’s startlingly playful, coming from the impassive soldier, and Chihiro finds himself startled- it’s actually… something that she would’ve done dressed as Junko, right? So maybe the way she acted as her… wasn’t so inaccurate after all.

 

Chihiro starts laughing, watching all of them interacting, and eventually steps forward to join, no longer wary of getting his clothes wet, but he stops when he sees Kiyotaka again. The boy is still standing off on the side, looking stricken. With that expression on his face, Chihiro finds he can’t just ignore Kiyotaka and go to have fun.

 

“H-Hey, Ishimaru,” he calls out, and the moral compass startles, looking up. “Are you gonna join in?” He asks carefully, gesturing at the pool. “It’s pretty hot out, probably nice for swimming.”

 

Kiyotaka pauses, looking as though he’s torn between trying to avoid Chihiro and answering. Eventually he says, “I- I don’t know if I want to chastise for swimming in our clothes or hop in,” he admits, and it’s much more quiet than Chihiro is used to. Idly the programmer wonders what exactly happened to Kiyotaka to make the change happen. It’s not like Chihiro prefers to be around loud people; he doesn’t, it’s just sad seeing the moral compass so subdued. So he reaches out to gently touch Kiyotaka’s shoulder.

 

“I think you should forget about that for a bit! Just come swim with everybody, it’ll be fun!” Chihiro smiles, and Kiyotaka gives him a wide-eyed look. “Last one of us into the pool is a rotten egg!”

 

Surprisingly, Kiyotaka starts to laugh. “No! It’s terrible to run around swimming pools, incredibly dangerous! We should  _ walk-  _ Fujisaki!” He cries, as Chihiro ignores his words and starts running. The programmer laughs too, gesturing for him to follow, and Kiyotaka pauses for only a moment before eventually shrugging and running after Chihiro.

 

They reach the pool at the same time and neither of them manages to slow down enough to avoid falling into the water, but when they resurface they’re both laughing between spitting out mouthfuls of chlorine, so Chihiro figures it’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweet boys... closes fist
> 
> writing this was very therapeutic for me after The Best Lies.... only real epic gamers will understand that reference >:3
> 
> in other news, wow, I'm almost caught up to my brother's story.
> 
> for the record gang once I finish updating this one up to where my bro's story is at, then updates will only come when his come. and he doesn't really update on a schedule. (plus he's on a boat rn for three weeks and,, hard to write fanfic while chasing whales in Canadian waters)
> 
> abhvjdbadsfj hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love,,, Chihiro Fujisaki,,,,,,,
> 
> read my brother's fic or you're not a true gamer
> 
> EDIT: thought I should let y'all know that I updated the summary to make it something I like more... the last one left me Distinctly Unsatisfied so I decided to purge it. sorry if that makes it weird for y'all first getting into the story keke


	7. Prologue VII: Hide and seek tag!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki POV.

Ibuki doesn’t really go anywhere after everyone decides to part. She leaves the beach, of course, but as she watches her friends and also all those strange people from different killing games going off about their business, she decides to take a seat and get some Ibuki time. She needs some, after all!   
  


Of course, she would’ve had plenty of Ibuki time if she’d died, but that’s not really a possibility she wants to think about right now. Obviously, she didn’t die, so why bother dwelling on it? Or, if she did die, then she’s back alive now, and she should focus on that! Maybe she should write an awesome song about dying! She could scream about the Despair Disease and being strangled to death and everything- it would be epic! She could even perform it at the _Titty Typhoon!_ She’s sure her friends would love it! But as much as Ibuki likes that idea, when she thinks about describing how she felt just yesterday, and performing it at the Typhoon, of all places…

 

On second thought, maybe she’ll just ignore it.

 

She doesn’t want to go far from the beach, so she just sits down against a palm tree a fair distance away from Kiibo, Hifumi, and Nagito and rests for a bit. Ibuki has little desire to look through her student handbook, so she doesn’t pull it out. Instead she opts to close her eyes and take a power nap against this tree. When she wakes up, she’ll be ready to rock everyone’s world! But she’s kinda tired right now, so maybe…

 

Sleep comes easily, which is a bit surprising considering what happened last time she closed her eyes for a long while. For a bit her sleep is peaceful; not even interrupted by dreams or anything like that, and boy does Ibuki have fun dreams, but after a bit, flashes of colours fill her mind, and she slips into a chaotic dream, surrounded by crazy lights and music. It’s her favourite type of thing, the bright music and lights, so she’s ready to just enjoy it, but for some reason seeing the stage makes her woozy. Instead of losing herself in the thick atmosphere she feels like she’s suffocating in it. And that familiar feeling of suffocation is what takes hold of her before long, closing over her mouth and nose and cutting off her air flow, making her dizzy, making her want to escape, crawl out of her skin-

 

“Mioda!” It’s a voice she doesn’t really recognise, but she opens her eyes nonetheless, blinking dizzily as she attempts to figure out where she is. Her back hurts from resting against the tree. Maybe it’s not the wisest place to take a nap, huh? “Are you okay?”

 

“What?” Ibuki looks up, putting a hand on her forehead as she adjusts to the change in lighting between the inside of her head and the sunny island, and then meets a pair of vivid, bright cyan eyes. After a moment it registers in her head that the robot is looking down at her, what was his name? Kiibo. She shakes her head, disoriented, then realises it could look like she’s saying she’s  _ not  _ okay, which probably isn’t so far from the truth, but like she wants to say that to Kiibo! “Yeah, Ibuki is awesome!” She exclaims. “Just taking a cat nap to refresh my energy! You know, Ibuki’s pointy buns kinda look like cat ears! Do you think I’d make a good cat, Kiibo? Nyan!”

 

“What?” Kiibo blinks, as though confused by her sudden shift in face, but then relaxes a little, smiling. “I-I guess, but- I’m glad you’re okay, then. You looked like you were kind of scratching your arms there, I was worried.”

 

Ibuki looks down at her arms, and truth be told, there are red scratch marks where her fingernails must have dug in. That’s not a very good look. She pulls her arm warmer over the scratches on one of her arms but finds she can’t do the same for the other. Oh well, she’ll just make something up if anyone asks. “Yup yup!” She cheers, beaming. “Ibuki was scratching herself, nya! Just like a cat!”

 

“Okay.” Kiibo’s smile looks a little chagrined, but not unkind, still. “Do you need a hand up?” Ibuki considers the question, supposes it wouldn’t hurt, and nods enthusiastically. So the robot reaches out, and she grabs his hand, and he tugs her to his feet with a soft “oof”. His hand is cool- in more ways than one, considering that it’s made of metal- and in mild fascination, Ibuki keeps a hold on it, looking excitedly at his arm.

 

“Wow! Kiibo really is a robot, that’s awesome!” She says, and Kiibo makes an offended face, like he’s about to say something like  _ of course I’m a robot, why on earth would I lie about it,  _ but Ibuki doesn’t have time for that, so she keeps talking. “I’ve never met a robot before! Do you use the bathroom?”

 

“Uh, no, I don’t.” Kiibo sighs, almost like he’s sad. Does he breathe? Sighing implies that he breathes. Or maybe that’s just a sound he can make? Whatever it is, it’s super cool! “I have a number of functions that make me similar to a human being, but I lack bodily functions like eating or drinking, so naturally I don’t have any waste to get rid of. I run on electricity, as well, so there’s nothing to put out in that way, either.”   
  


“I see, I see.” Ibuki strokes her chin, but she still hasn’t released Kiibo’s hand, and to his credit, he doesn’t seem to think it’s all that strange. Maybe ‘cause he’s a robot, or maybe just because he’s patient! Whatever the case is, his energy reminds her of Hajime, so she likes him! With that thought in her head, Ibuki latches onto his upper arm, tucking her head onto his cold shoulder. It’s not very comfortable by any means- it’s like putting her chin on a kitchen counter or a stove that’s not on- but she doesn’t mind! It’s kinda fun hanging out with a robot! “We’re best friends now, ‘kay? Ibuki wants to write a song about you! Hm, maybe I can call it, ‘Yes, I’m a robot, and no, we don’t use the bathroom’? No, maybe putting the word bathroom in the title is too click baity…”

 

Kiibo is silent for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes. (Perhaps this is because she’s now hanging off his shoulder, not unlike a gremlin.) But eventually he laughs. “I’m fine with that,” he tells her, in response to her declaration of friendship. That’s good, because there was no way Ibuki was gonna let him not be her best friend regardless. If Hajime isn’t here to be her best friend, then obviously she’s just gonna have to make a new one! Sorry Hajime, you snooze, you lose! “And, uhm,” suddenly Kiibo sounds nervous, and Ibuki pulls away slightly, wanting to hear better what he’s about to say. “If you mean it when you say you’ll write a song about me… may I sing it with you?”

 

Ah! “Abso-tively!” Ibuki grins, flashing a double thumbs up and jumping up and down a little. “Do you like singing? You can be a part of Ibuki and Hajime’s band!” Well, so much for replacing Hajime.

 

“Really?” Kiibo looks startled, as though he wasn’t really expecting Ibuki to agree. “Are you sure you want me? I uhm,” he pauses, looking a bit sad, which Ibuki doesn’t like one bit. “I hear I’m not a very good singer.”

 

“Good singer, schmood smchminger!” Ibuki waves a hand, despite the fact that what she just said was basically incomprehensible. Kiibo seems to have understood what she meant, though, and is looking at her with wide eyes. He’s such a cool robot bestie! He might even be cooler than Byakuya! (Thought that is a  _ very high bar.)  _ “What matters is you’re expressing yourself in a way that’s uniquely you! But but but but but!” She giggles; things are better in fives. “If you’re gonna join our band, that means you’ll have to undergo the vigorous training that Hajime had to, okay?”

 

“Of course!” Kiibo puffs out his chest, which is also super cool! “I can take it! Don’t assume that just because I’m a robot, I can’t do it!”

 

“Ibuki would never think that!” She assures, grinning and bouncing away from him. “Okay! Are you ready to start on training now?” She asks brightly, and Kiibo startles.

 

“What? Right now?” He asks, sounding more surprised than he has any right being, and Ibuki vigorously nods her head, flashing him a peace sign. If Kiibo wants to be in the band, then he’s gotta show his commitment, and there’s no time like the present!

 

“Yup! Now as in right now, if there is such a thing as time in the first place!” She giggles, then continues. “So, Ibuki is gonna call you Kiibowan from now on! Like Kiibo, but also padawan! Because you’re in training! You’re like the Luke Skywalker to my Master Yoda! Train, you must, so that sing freely, you can!” Ibuki is pretty much spouting whatever comes into her head without any warning, but Kiibo seems to be following along pretty well. He’s gonna make a great band member if he can keep up with her! Even Hajime couldn’t really do that! “First things first, we’re gonna play hide and seek tag!”

 

There’s a moment of silence, then, “Wait, the first thing we’re going to do to train is play a game?” Kiibo asks, sounding incredulous. “How does that-”

 

“Ibuki is gonna hide first!” She interrupts. “Come find me and try to tag me! If you manage to catch me, then you’re a true master of hide and seek tag, and we can move on to other fun things, like running around the airport with swim trunks on our heads! The supermarket has plenty of swim trunks so we’ll definitely be able to find some! Okay! Give me a ten second head start!”

 

“Mioda-” Kiibo starts, but she’s already turned and started running away, shouting  _ good luck  _ at him over her shoulder as she takes off at full speed. She hears him sigh behind her before starting to count down from ten in a rather loud voice. Kiibo learns well! Ibuki likes him a lot, and not just because he’s a robot! He definitely reminds her of Hajime! And she really likes Hajime! Plus, Kiibo is a robot, which means he’s double awesome! Maybe even triple awesome for wanting to sing!   
  


Suffice to say that Ibuki is feeling really super happy as she runs towards the hotel restaurant. She totally has an advantage, knowing this place better than Kiibo does! Of course, he has his student handbook, and it might have that map that shows where everyone is at all times, but she sure hopes he doesn’t use it during the hide and seek tag. She might give him points for ingenuity if he figures out he could use it all on his own, since she didn’t say he couldn’t use it, but she still doesn’t want the game to end so quickly! That would be super lame and also not fun at all!

 

Since she’s not really watching where she’s running, as she sprints, she almost knocks over one of the other people from one of the other killing games- his name is Rantaro, she remembers. He has a super cool older brother feel, and a bunch of piercings, just like Ibuki! She really wants to climb on his back and give him a lot of koala hugs. That can wait, though, until later, when she’s not training a new band member.

 

“Remember to air out your undies!” She calls out to him as he attempts to right himself. Ibuki doesn’t bother waiting for a response as she goes full speed to the hotel restaurant, but she hears him laughing and figures she did her job nicely. That pretty artist girl, Angie, is sitting at the pool, and under different circumstances she’d go and talk to her, because Angie is really really cute, but again, she’s busy, so she just opens the entrance to the restaurant and slides inside, trying to catch her breath.

 

This is hide and seek tag, though, so she can’t waste a moment! Every second is valuable to her right now; she’s gotta take this seriously if she really wants to test Kiibo! So she breezes by Byakuya, even though he’s cool, and Nekomaru, who’s also really awesome, in the lobby, before taking the stairs three and two at a time for flavour and speed. By the time she gets to the top her lungs are burning, so she rests against the railing, trying to catch her breath.

 

That shrine that Hiyoko made to Mahiru a couple days ago isn’t here anymore. Ibuki wonders idly where all the pictures went. She liked them, after a while- they were super cute, they showed everybody, and she liked seeing them every time she went to breakfast! Now that it’s not here she feels sad, like her friends are all gone, even though she has Mahiru and Byakuya back. It still sucks not seeing Peko or Mikan, and knowing what happened to them, too! Ibuki isn’t above crying but she figures that during hide and seek tag isn’t the best time, so she distracts herself by whistling the Bb scale through her nose.

 

“Oh.” The sound of a voice behind her catches her off guard and she flips around.

 

“No way! There’s no way I got a ten second head start if you- oh, Kokichi!” She smiles, seeing that it actually isn’t Kiibo who’s there on the stairs, but the purple haired rat boy from before. Kokichi was his name, like she just said! He seems a bit mean, because he made a rude comment about Kiibo being a robot, and that’s Ibuki’s new bestie she’s talking about here! But he also called Nagito a bottom, and since Ibuki is inclined to agree, she decides she won’t hate him yet. “Hi hi!” She greets, since two is better than one.

 

Kokichi blinks at her, before breaking into a wide, slightly childish grin. “Hii, Ibuki!” He calls to her, and she smiles, because he can’t be a bad person if he’s using her given name. “I’m looking for someone who was here during their killing game, can you help me out? I have no idea what’s supposed to be normal around here and I’m feeling pretty sad about it, y’know?” Kokichi blinks away tears, and Ibuki is preeeeetty sure that’s a lie, but she decides not to call him out on it, since she’s nice like that.

 

“Of course! Ibuki is always here to help!” She tells him. “What can I do you for? It takes a lot more money to get me to have sex with you if you’re a boy, I just wanna let you know now!”

 

“Aw, man!” Kokichi frowns, but then the expression disappears, and he has that childish sad face again. “Sooo, I’m wondering about the cottages! It’s not a huge deal, it’s just that my lock was like, super broken, and it’s not cool at all!” The supreme leader makes a face like he’s gonna cry. “I don’t wanna get murdered, you know? That would totally suck!”

 

Ibuki taps her index fingers together. “It’s… possible that you ended up in the cottage that Hajime was in, ‘cause, Ibuki broke his lock.”

 

“...hm.” Kokichi blinks at her. “You can break the locks here, huh?”

 

“Oh, yeah! It’s super easy, Ibuki can-” Just as she’s about to finish that thought, there are loud footsteps coming from downstairs, and all of a sudden Kokichi is pushed out of the way, to reveal Kiibo, who looks like he’s breathing pretty heavily for a robot.

 

“Sorry Ouma, but-” Kiibo takes a deep breath. “I found you, Mioda!”

 

“Uh-oh.” Ibuki intones. “Gotta run! Remember the  _ tag  _ part of hide and seek tag, Kiibowan!”  She considers jumping out the window but decides that’s a bit too risky, so instead, when Kiibo runs forward to tag her, she darts past him (and subsequently Kokichi) to get back to the stairs. Kiibo is pretty slow, so he misses her, and lets out a cry as she jumps the bottom five steps, yelling out a goodbye to Byakuya and Nekomaru before sprinting off again. As she passes the pool, she sees that Rantaro has joined Angie there, and Mahiru is sitting there too, and  _ wow, _ that’s two girls who Ibuki is super in to sitting together with the guy she gets huge big brother vibes from, but she’ll have time to talk to them when her pride isn’t at stake!   
  


She knows Kiibo is close behind her, so she takes off running towards the cottages. When she turns, she sees Kokichi slipping out from the restaurant, and if she’s not mistaken, he’s heading in the direction of the airport. Sounds like fun, but she needs to go somewhere where she’s not gonna get distracted. With that in mind, she tears off towards the bridge between the first island, which she’s on, and the central island. Just as she’s about to reach it, though, she changes her mind last second and decides that she wants to give Kiibo a tour of the first island, so she sprints past the beach and towards the supermarket. She’s starting to get out of breath, but it’s also giving her a lot of really awesome adrenaline, and she’s having fun!

 

Ibuki enters the supermarket, running through the shelves and weaving in between to make things a bit harder on Kiibo. She hears him yelling behind her, something about stamina, and it’s probably to do with the fact that he might have more than her, and crap he’s so right, but she’s pretty sure he’s severely underestimating how much she does these types of things. This was pretty much commonplace with her old bandmates, after all…! Oh, but don’t think about that, those aren’t really very happy thoughts. Not particularly sad ones, and it’s not like it’s hard to think about, but she doesn’t wanna get distracted!

 

Once she thinks they’re done in the supermarket, she exits, running past the airport and back towards the bridge again. There’s nothing else Kiibo needs to see this time, which is great, because she’s starting to get really really tired which means forfeiting time is approaching. She runs over the bridge and once she’s on the central island, starts making her way the long way around to the bridge to the second. The second island is the one where Mahiru died, Ibuki thinks, the one with the Ruins and all that crazy stuff… as she looks at all the bridges, though, she sees that they’re all… destroyed. As though they’ve been blown up, or something. All but the one connecting the first and central islands.

 

When Ibuki sees this is the case with the bridge to the third island as well, she feels an odd surge of relief, then questions the fact that it occurred. It’s so weird to her that she’d feel relieved over that kind of thing… there’s nothing on that island to be afraid of, just, just, y’know, the place she died, and… that hospital…

 

Ibuki loses track of her surroundings and crashes right into somebody.

 

She slams back onto her rear, which probably looks pretty stupid, but they stay on their feet, admittedly with a grunt of surprise. When Ibuki looks up, she makes eye contact with Ryoma, the edgy guy from earlier with the super super cool low voice! He’s so short, she’s surprised she actually  _ collided  _ with him, but she’s not surprised that he managed to stay standing. Tennis players have to be strong, after all!

 

“Oh- sorry. You good, kid?” Ryoma asks, frowning. His candy cigarette (eee! Too many cool people, Ibuki is gonna have a coolness overload!) frowns too, kinda. “You were going pretty fast there.”

 

Yeah, Ibuki wants to say, for good reason- behind her, Kiibo’s footsteps slow to a stop, and he cries out, “Mioda, are you alright?” She looks over her shoulder at him, struggling to catch her breath so that she can respond, but it takes her a moment, since her lungs are kinda burning, and all! Still, she beams at him, and he seems relieved, walking over and stopping at her shoulder.

 

“Yup! Ibuki is fine, she was just going too fast!” She assures the both of them, holding her grin in place with ease. It didn’t even hurt that bad, really. Her pride is more injured than her bum.

 

“If you’re sure, then..” Kiibo reaches out, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Tag.”

 

“Aww!” Ibuki pouts. “I guess you’re a hide and seek tag master, now! I’ve been dethroned!” She touches her forehead with the back of her hand, dramatic, but smiles again when Kiibo offers her another hand up. She accepts it, allowing the robot to pull her to her feet like before, and in a moment she’s bouncing on her toes, a wide smile playing on her features.

 

“Wait,” Ryoma gives them  a confused look. “You were playing… tag?”

 

“Hide and seek tag,” Kiibo corrects. “And yes, Hoshi, we were. It’s training so that I may become a member of Mioda’s band!”

 

“That’s right!” Ibuki agrees, putting her hands on her hips and giving a toothy grin. “Kiibo is gonna be the lead singer! Hajime is on drums, and Ibuki will play both the guitar and the bass probably! Only when she wants to, though. Maybe I’ll switch things up so you never know which one I’m gonna play!”

 

Ryoma pauses, then cracks a small smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along with the people here, Kiibo.” He tells the robot quietly, a borderline fond look in his black eyes. (SO! COOl!)   
  


“I would hope that you are too.” Kiibo responds, giving Ryoma a look that Ibuki can’t decipher. “I don’t mean to be blunt, so if it’s none of my business you can say so, but I don’t think you should be isolating yourself over things you did in the past this time, alright? I think there are a bunch of excellent people here, barring Komaeda and Shirogane,” he shudders when he says it and Ibuki wholeheartedly agrees. “Who you are sure to get along with.”

 

“Mm.” Ryoma tugs his hat over his eyes in what is certainly a very edgy but also very cool gesture. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Since Ibuki doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, she takes the opportunity to catch her breath and space out. The sunlight on her skin is warm, and pleasant. Nothing like how cold everything felt when she was sick. The slight breeze is welcome rather than shied away from. It’s kinda uncomfortable how much her lungs burn after all of that running but she really doesn’t hate it. It feels like being alive, and even though it’s bitter and it definitely burns it’s sweet as well. She wants to run out into the ocean without any clothes on- preferably without anyone else around but maybe with a friend too- and roll around in the grass, to feel all the sensations on her skin and ignore everything else. She wants to pick up her guitar and write a song, a thousand songs, about any and everything.

 

There’s so much suddenly that she feels like she wants to do and it’s so  _ weird.  _ Ibuki’s always wanted to do everything but it’s felt like she’s had all the time in the world for it. Now she feels like she doesn’t have any time at all, and she has to do it all. Suddenly she’s wondering if it was a bad idea, holding off on giving people hugs, doing all the things she thought would be fun. Should she even bother waiting until a more appropriate moment to do the things that she wants to? What if that moment never comes? Will she just never do it?

 

In lieu of stripping naked and running into the ocean, which feels like a bad idea in the day time, she decides to make good on  _ one  _ of her compulsive urges and darts forward to give Kiibo a hug. He’s still in the middle of talking to Ryoma, and stumbles a little with her weight (wow, are all robots that weak?) but he returns the gesture when he realises that it’s just a hug and not an attack. It’s a very fine line with Ibuki, though, so perhaps he should be ready.

 

“Are you alright?” Kiibo is chuckling but he also sounds concerned. “I know we’re best friends now, as per your declaration earlier, but are the random hugs a normal thing for you?”

 

“Nothing is a normal thing for Ibuki!” She cheers, releasing the robot from the embrace. “Because Ibuki doesn’t like normal things, she likes fun things, and normal isn’t fun!” Actually, she takes that back. Hajime is pretty normal but he’s still fun! Either way, she turns and gives Ryoma a big hug too, just because she wants to.

 

“Oh,” Ryoma doesn’t seem like he really knows how to respond. “Uhm, hi, Mioda,”

 

“Hello!” Ibuki responds, grinning. “Ryoma smells like mint! And your hat has cat ears! You should let Ibuki embroider something on it!” Ryoma returns the hug, awkwardly patting her back, and she pulls away, putting a hand on her hip and the other over her eyes, as though to peer down at him. “Hmmm… something sparkly! Does Ryoma like purple?”

 

Ryoma tugs his hat down over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s alright. This hat shouldn’t really belong to me anymore, though. I just wear it now for the familiarity of it.” He sighs. “If you want to do something with it, I won’t stop you.”

 

“That’s a really passive mindset and I don’t like it!” Ibuki tells him angrily. “Ibuki is great and making clothes, you should be more excited about this! Hey, I’ll make you something more exciting than those dumb striped pants, okay? You’re gonna love it!”

 

“...I’ll take your word for it.” Ryoma’s small smile reappears, and he flashes her a thumbs up with a wink, and Ibuki figures that that’s good enough, so she turns around to Kiibo and strokes her chin in thought.

 

“We should start talking about your next training! Uhm-” before she can say anything else, though, one of the monitors nearby lights up, and Usami appears in it. Ibuki is fairly used to this, and based on the way both Kiibo and Ryoma look over instinctively, she figures that they are too, so she looks over, wondering what the rabbit is gonna say.

 

_ “Hello students! I’m so happy to see that you’re all getting along so well thus far!”  _ Usami claps her paws together, looking happier than a stuffed rabbit has any right to look.  _ “Since you’re all doing so wonderful, I thought I’d reward you with a fun activity!”  _ At that, Ibuki frowns, wondering if they’re gonna go swimming again. After what happened last time, she’s not sure if she wants that to happen again…  _ “Please come upstairs to the hotel restaurant, and I’ll explain more there! It’s not mandatory, but I hope every one of you comes so we can all strengthen our bonds together! Love, love!” _

 

The monitor shuts off, and Ibuki blinks.

 

“Huh.” Kiibo frowns, stroking his chin, then smiles. “Well, I know Usami can be trusted, so I suppose I’ll go to the restaurant.”

 

“She can?” Ibuki gasps, putting her hands on her cheeks in surprise. “How’d you figure that?”

 

“I know a thing or two about the Neo-World Program.” Kiibo explains, smiling in a proud way. “Komaeda, Yamada, and I decided it would be a good idea to wait until dinner to debrief what we all discussed, but we’re in agreement that Usami is on our side. If it’s a reward of sorts, then I think we can trust her motivations.” He nods. “Would you two come with me?”

 

“...hmph.” Ryoma looks away. “I don’t see a reason why I should go along, I’ll just drag everyone down.”

 

Huffing, Ibuki shakes her head. “Nope! Ibuki is going, and so is Ryoma! You’re gonna enjoy yourself with everyone else!” She declares. “By the way, this isn’t an optional thing, which means that you have to say yes! There’s no saying no allowed right now!” She pauses. “Well, maybe a  _ little  _ saying no, but only if you feel sick and wanna cry!”

 

There’s a moment of silence, wherein Ryoma is just looking at her strangely. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t get you, Mioda. But it doesn’t seem like you’re the one here who’s got a long way to go.” He sighs. “Fine, I’ll go with. Might as well see what Usami’s planning, anyway.” Ibuki cheers, shooting Kiibo a grin, and he gives her a look like he’s impressed with her, which is awesome, because she always likes impressing her bestie!

 

Though there’s not much to say, as the three of them begin heading back in the direction of the first island, Ibuki busies herself by regaling Kiibo and Ryoma with a story of the time she accidentally ended up stuck in a zoo. Ryoma tells her part of the way through that she needs to calm down a little, and Kiibo questions the validity of the whole story, but they’re both such fun people to talk to, Ibuki doesn’t really care. She’s smiling the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of the friendships in this fic I didn't even plan on happening they just popped up qwq
> 
> we're doing a double update today bc I already got both of the chapters done, so I might as well just post them all at once lmao adjbfajklsdfb


	8. Prologue VIII: No fish slapping!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imposter POV.

The Ultimate Imposter is in the lobby when Usami’s announcement goes off; this is perhaps the only reason why they’re even considering going up and doing what she’d like them to do. That aside, of course, they don’t see much of a reason to refrain. As much as she was annoying the short time that they were alive within the killing game, they sincerely doubt she’s all bad. She seems more like a troublesome presence than much else, and not anybody they should be wary of. It could be a facade, of course, to get them to lower their guards around her, but that doesn’t seem to be the case; the people here who seem to know a thing or two about the situation, notably Tsumugi, Kiibo, and Nagito, all act around her like she’s trustworthy.

 

With that in mind, the Imposter (in their mind, they’ve taken to calling themselves Imposter, as it’s shorter and less pretentious than calling themselves  _ the Imposter _ every time they so much of think about who they are, if there is such a person) decides to head upstairs for whatever the annoying rabbit would have them do. Just as they start to climb up, though, the door to the lobby swings open, and a number of people spill through, laughing and talking quite loudly.

 

Imposter glances over their shoulder, raising an eyebrow. The scent of chlorine perforates the space and ah, they’re all dripping wet. In actuality they don’t mind, but in acting as Byakuya Togami they allow themselves to frown, incining their head as though to ask the people in question if they’re being serious.

 

“Hello, hello, Byakuya!” The artist, Angie, puts on a wide smile and bounces over. She must be a very affectionate person, Imposter notes, as she leans forward and grabs both of their hands. They don’t mind the physical contact, though it’s a bit gross from someone who is wearing sopping wet clothing and smells a lot like chlorine. As Byakuya, they pull away their hands, but don’t frown at her yet. “Do you know why Usami called us?”

 

“No, if I knew that, then I wouldn’t bother going upstairs,” they respond stiffly, even though it isn’t entirely the truth. “I suppose you’ve come to find out yourself?”

 

“Of course, of course!” Angie nods, pulling out a (very wet) paintbrush from her belt and embellishing it as though to add emphasis to what she’s saying. “And to enjoy whatever reward Usami has planned, you know! God says it is a good idea to accept treats when they are offered!”

 

“It is foolish,” Imposter says. “To base all of your actions around a single entity. You should focus on something more tangible.”

 

“That’s your opinion,” Angie replies with a shrug, and then runs past them up the stairs. It’s not entirely true; they don’t have an opinion on religion as a whole and have, in fact, posed as rather religious people in the past, but even though this is the case, it gives them a thrill of validation when she says that nonetheless. They are not certain as to the real Byakuya Togami’s stance on religion; perhaps he is a rather pious individual, but to be frank they sincerely doubt it. More likely he chooses to believe in something far more trustworthy: himself. Which is exactly how Imposter intends to act. Still, they nod their head at the others who move by- Chihiro, who is chatting brightly with both Kiyotaka and Sayaka, Tenko, who shoots them a withering glare, Miu, who is laughing boisterously with Nekomaru about something Imposter personally does not care to engage with, Mahiru, who is talking more quietly with Rantaro but still smiling, and Mukuro, who is carrying an energetic Kokichi on her shoulders with ease as she mounts the stairs. It’s an odd group of people, but they’re all soaked, so Imposter can only assume they’ve been having a fun time together.

 

At the rear, Tsumugi Shirogane, the supposed “mastermind” mounts the stairs, but she is dry. There’s a detached little smile present on her features and Imposter decides idly that they don’t really want to get close enough to figure out what that’s about. Once they’ve all disappeared into the restaurant, Imposter hums and follows suit, heading up to where everyone has begun to gather around by the windows.

 

The restaurant is the same as it was when Imposter died, but all the tables in the room have been pushed together to make one large table. There are chairs around it (they count twenty, which is strange because there are nineteen of them, until they realise that there’s probably a chair for Usami as well) and atop the large table itself, there are stacks of parchment paper, as well as numerous bottles of paint, cups of paintbrushes, and… rubber fish? Frowning, Imposter starts forward and picks up one of the fish. It’s rather detailed, actually, they’re impressed. One side is flat and smooth, with nothing on it, but the other has each individual scale pressed into the rubber. It looks new, but there are little bits of paint still on the fish that they chose to pick up, and it doesn’t take an expert to figure out that this fish is supposed to be used as a print of sorts.

 

“Hello Togami!” Usami chirps, and Imposter looks up. She’s standing on the table in front of them, heaving a large bucket of water. “Are you ready to start fish printing?”

 

“Fish printing?” Kokichi, who is now no longer on Mukuro’s back, pops up next to Imposter, purple eyes wide and mischievous. “What’s that? Are we gonna print on fish? With fish?”

 

“Oh, I wish there was a good word that I could rhyme with with so I could say red fish blue fish…” Tsumugi frowns, looking troubled.

 

“...if fish?” Angie suggests, then an angry look clouds her features incredibly briefly, as though she was not wanting to interact with Tsumugi. She shoots the blue haired girl a glare harsher than what Imposter assumed she would stoop to and then her easy smile returns; she latches onto Rantaro’s arm, though, effectively interrupting his conversation with Mahiru. Perhaps he’s thinking about what just happened, however, because he just pats her head, smiling easily.

 

Imposter figures that they should probably say something. “What is… fish printing?”

 

“I’ll explain soon!” Usami promises. “Once everyone else has gotten here!”

 

“Hey, why does it smell so bad in here?” Hiyoko walks in, alone, and Imposter worries about her for a moment, wondering why she went off by herself. She doesn’t seem troubled at all, though, just irate, and they figure that it’s probably fine. “It’s like someone dumped a pool out in there!”

 

“Hiyoko, hey!” Mahiru calls out. “Where were you? Nidai was trying to find you so you could come swim with us!”

 

“Huh?” Hiyoko blinks. “Oh… I was in my cottage, but…” she looks sad for a fraction of a second, then the look is replaced with one of irritation. “Geez, you big dummy! You could’ve just used your handbook, those things tell you where everyone is! Don’t you know that?” As though to prove her point, she brandishes her student handbook in the air, showing it to Nekomaru. To the coach’s credit, he doesn’t look abashed, just a bit apologetic.

 

“Sorry, Saionji, I’ll keep that in mind next time we go swimming!” He promises, and Hiyoko rolls her eyes, but eventually nods, shuffling over to stand next to Mahiru and Rantaro. Angie greets her, and Hiyoko hesitates before offering a smile, and Imposter is kind of impressed, because it takes a lot to get Hiyoko to be friendly, doesn’t it?

 

After Hiyoko, Hifumi and Nagito arrive, and to Imposter’s relative shock they’re talking almost like old friends. Hifumi seems blind to how strange Nagito is, and Nagito is treating Hifumi in that way that he treats all the Ultimates- with total reverence. It’s a bit of a strange sight to behold, but Imposter isn’t about to judge. The two of them greet Usami and walk around to join the group, though notably they stand with Nagito on the outside, as though to keep him away from the other Ultimates. This is something that Hifumi seems to do purposefully, and Imposter can appreciate the tact involved.

 

Finally, Ibuki, Kiibo, and Ryoma arrive. Upon seeing them, Mahiru falls silent, perhaps in the middle of a sentence, but Imposter watches Ryoma dodge eye contact with her, pulling his hat down over his eyes. A strange interaction but none of their business, Imposter figures. Ibuki is talking excitedly about something or other, but she stops her story as well when she sees everyone else is already there, running over to Imposter’s side and throwing her arms around them in a big hug.

 

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi!” Ibuki chirps, and Imposter startles but pats her back, not entirely sure where this came from. “Ibuki didn’t get to do this before so she’s doing it now!” She tells them, as though that’s a good explanation for why they’re being attacked with hugs. Still, they don’t mind it. She’s actually fairly warm, and she smells pleasant; a welcome contrast between the chlorine scent and what they’re currently experiencing. Imposter intends to say something to her, but as they open their mouth, Usami speaks up.

 

“Alright! You’re all here! That makes me so happy, I was so worried some of you wouldn’t come!” She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Imposter notes strangely that her paw is kind of shaking.  _ Is she alright? _ A weird question to ask of a rabbit, for sure, but they find themselves wondering regardless.

 

“I have a question, actually, before you start us on the activity,” Mahiru interrupts, and she puts her hands on her hips, leaning forward with a stern look on her face. “What’s with the new rules? Is there something going on?”

 

“I’m wondering that too.” Rantaro agrees, crossing his arms. The expression he wears is stern as well; not in the way that Mahiru’s is, with that expectant pouty look, but more in a disappointed way, like the look a parent would give a child who did something wrong. In other words, Imposter supposes they’re both going all out on Usami. They don’t envy the robot, being subjected to both of those looks at once, that’s for sure.

 

“New rules?” Ibuki asks, frowning. “What new rules?” She takes out her handbook, flipping through, and as she does so several of the others in the room follow suit. Imposter knows what Mahiru is talking about, however, because they neglected to check their handbook until after the rules had already been added. “Wow! The language in these is so formal, Usami is so cool!” She squeals, looking as though it doesn’t make a difference to her.

 

“N-Nothing happened,” Usami assures, but she begins to sweat nonetheless. “Your head teacher is just taking precautionary measures, is all!” When Rantaro and Mahiru’s looks intensify, Usami adds, “Really! Nothing is wrong, not here!”

 

“Not here?” Angie asks, tilting her head to the side. “You know, you wrote in your own rules that lying to the students is not allowed. What is happening, and where, if not here?”

 

“Ha wa wa…” Usami covers her face with her ears. “You’re all so forthcoming… you’re right, though, I did put that in the rules… there was just a small breach in one of the other programs, it’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“Oh? Other programs?” Kokichi raises an eyebrow. “What other programs are we talking about, here?”

 

“E-Enough questions, we’re not here to talk about those things!” Usami puts her hands on her hips, though she is lacking the air of authority that Mahiru bore. “We’re here to have fun, and it’s nothing you guys need to worry yourselves about anyway! Let’s talk about fish printing!”

 

A couple other people try to pry some answers out of Usami, but she seems determined to push the fish printing thing, so eventually they all give up and take seats to print some fish. Imposter doesn’t particularly care, but they’re here anyway, so they might as well. They take a seat next to Ibuki at her behest, and hum when Mukuro slides in on their right. Kokichi is hanging off of her shoulder again, but she’s smiling slightly, so they figure that she doesn’t need rescuing for the moment, which is good, because they don’t especially want to get involved with Kokichi just yet, as he seems tiresome.

 

Usami explains that fish printing is… essentially exactly what Imposter thought it was. They’re supposed to paint the detailed side of the rubber fish and then place a piece of paper on top, patting it down, so that there’s a fish pattern on the paper. It sounds like a bit of fun, actually, but for the sake of keeping up their image they let out a hmph, muttering something about how such  _ mediocre activities are beneath the likes of Byakuya Togami  _ before they take a paintbrush and a fish to get started. Ibuki calls them cool for their efforts, which is pretty high praise, and they smile to themselves.

 

As expected, they’re all pretty bad at it. Though it seems like a pretty easy task, it perhaps takes a bit more precision than Imposter originally thought. Their first print doesn’t turn out so bad but their second one is an absolute disaster. Ibuki immediately begins making a huge mess of herself. However, Angie does remarkably well, managing to blend together a number of lovely colours for a rather beautiful print. Perhaps that is her showing her talent as the Ultimate Artist.

 

“Was that God acting through you?” Tsumugi questions her, and Angie’s eye twitches in irritation as she looks at the cosplayer.

 

“Actually, God is camera shy, so he doesn’t like to do his work in front of others.” Angie explains testily. “But he certainly advised me in creating this!”

 

“Huh,” Rantaro looks at his own mess of a painting and then gets a glob of paint on his finger, drawing a smiley face instead. “I guess I can’t really compete with a god.”

 

“I don’t think even a god would be able to help you with that one.” Mahiru offers helpfully, and he pouts at her.

 

“Yeah, God tells me to tell you to practice but also to tell you that he doesn’t have much faith left in your abilities to fish print.” Angie shrugs. “Perhaps your abilities are more aimed towards other things, like getting lost!”

 

In response, Rantaro gets a handful of yellow paint in his hand and flicks it at both of them. Angie giggles, but Mahiru gasps, a look of playful offense flashing across her features.

 

“Hey!” Usami protests. “The paint is supposed to be used on the fish, not your friends!” She doesn’t sound too upset, actually, more like a happy mother telling her children not to do stupid shit, but she’s likely saying that in order to stop a paint war from happening.

 

“Yeah! Stupid Amami, this is how you’re supposed to do it!” Kokichi lathers a rubber skate in purple paint and stands up, looking over at Miu. “Hey slut, catch!” Miu, for some reason, responds to the word slut, and is about to say something, when the fish flies over the large table and slams right into her face, sliding down and falling onto the floor with a pathetic sounding plop. It’s a pretty good print job, actually; Imposter can see the details of the skate on Miu’s forehead and hair, which is still wet from the pool.

 

The inventor, of course, gasps in outrage. “You shota bitch!” She yells, which is a pretty rude thing to say, actually, before grabbing a large salmon print and smearing it with white paint before running around the table to get to Kokichi. The supreme leader lets out a squeak and attempts to hide behind Mukuro, but she slips away, telling him that he chose this fate, and it’s too late for him to run away before Miu arrives and slaps him in the face with the rubber fish. As a result, they’re both covered in paint, and Kokichi starts yelling cuss words at her, even though  _ he literally started it,  _ and grabs another fish print off the table. As he goes to get her back, though, he swings a fish and misses, slamming Hiyoko in the back of the head with a bright blue rubber shark.

 

There’s a long pause.

 

“You little shit.” Hiyoko mutters, which is rich, coming from someone as tiny as her.

 

Then, all hell breaks loose.

 

She’s probably trying to get at Kokichi when she uses her already paint covered fish to lash out, but she ends up slapping Miu instead, and Miu  _ moans,  _ which, okay, before retaliating, and throwing  _ several  _ fish in Hiyoko’s direction. That drags more people into the battle, and as luck would have it, Angie takes the opportunity to slap all of her neighbours with rubber fish that don’t even have paint on them, perhaps just because she likes chaos. A fish ends up hitting Nekomaru in the head, and it seems like he doesn’t even know who threw it, because he just lets out a battle cry and starts slapping random, unsuspecting people with fish way too hard. Hifumi yells something about how he can’t let himself be dishonoured like that, and Nagito is talking about how he has faith that the person with the most hope will come out on top, and then Ibuki starts hitting people with paint covered fish, because she and Angie are probably very similar in that they’re agents of chaos.

 

Tenko is on the defensive, trying to fend off fish from hitting Chihiro and Sayaka, but when Kokichi slaps her with one she apologises to the two girls and dives in with gusto. Imposter is attempting to stay out of it, but then somebody hits Ryoma with a fish, and Ryoma gets a dangerous look in his eyes and one goes flying back to hit them, but they duck out of the way, so the fish hits Imposter in the middle of the forehead, and, well, Byakuya Togami wouldn’t let his dignity be attacked like that, would he? That’s the excuse they make, at least, when they join Ibuki in pelting Ryoma with paint covered goldfish, all amidst the screaming of the other Ultimates as they charge into war. So to speak.

 

“Oh my god, it’s all in my hair,” Mahiru’s voice complains.

 

“I liked this skirt, too,” Sayaka sighs.

 

“That’s what you get for being the smelly mastermind!” Kokichi blows a raspberry.

 

“That’s plainly disrespectful!” Tsumugi’s voice protests. “I smell fine!”

 

“My kimono!” Hiyoko shrieks, but she doesn’t sound too distressed- yeah, she better not, they all have exact copies of their outfits in their cottages.

 

“Are you sure this paint won’t mess with your circuits?” Rantaro’s voice inquires, sounding concerned.

 

“Yes, quite sure! Professor Idabashi made sure that I can resist much more than a little paint!” Kiibo boasts.

 

“Guys, this isn’t a very good use of the materials…” Kiyotaka sounds as though he’s the only person not participating.

 

“God says it’s your time to go, Hifumi!”

 

“Ehhhh? Miss Yonaga, I cannot allow myself to strike a woman, you can’t do this to me!”

 

“What, you think girls can’t handle your measly strength? DEGENERATE MALE!”

 

“Everyone please stop!” Usami pleads, and  _ finally  _ she’s saying something, but it might be a bit too late for that, Imposter thinks idly

 

“Why? Fish slapping is so fun! Nishishi!”

 

“No! No fish slapping! I’m adding it to the rules!” A moment later, all of their student handbooks ding, which didn’t happen when she added the rules earlier, and Imposter takes out their handbook, disbelieving. Sure enough, there it is.

 

**_Rule 9:_ ** _ Absolutely NO fish slapping will be permitted. _

 

“Oh my fucking god, she actually added it,” Miu’s voice cackles.

 

“Wow, she can really just add rules while standing there, huh?” Tsumugi marvels.

 

The chaos all calms down, leaving everyone breathing heavily where they’re standing. There isn’t a single person in the room, aside from Kiyotaka and  _ tentatively  _ Usami, who isn’t covered in paint. Imposter feels a bit embarrassed that they just went out like that, but mostly they don’t have any regrets. It was fun. They catch Ibuki looking at them and, since they don’t have any reason not to, grin at her. She returns the expression, wiping paint off from under her eye.

 

“Aw man.” Kokichi looks down at his white shirt. “This is like the time I killed my parents.”   
  


“You killed your parents?” Kiyotaka exclaims in horror. “That’s awful, why would you do that?”

 

“Nishishishi, it was a lie!”

 

“Wh-Why would you lie about that kind of thi-”

 

_ “Or was it?” _

 

“Huh?” Poor Kiyotaka, he seems so utterly confused. Imposter glares at Kokichi, because they’re not sure what he’s playing at, but he’s clearly causing some kind of trouble, and messing with Kiyotaka just seems mean. They open their mouth, preparing to say something, only for the lights in the restaurant to flicker out, and the sky outside the window to darken, suddenly filled with dark grey clouds.

 

There’s a moment of silence before voices fill the room again.

 

“Who turned off the fucking sun?” Miu’s voice, irate.

 

“U-Uhm, is that supposed to happen? Who programmed this simulation?” Chihiro is the one who asks that, sounding worried.

 

“Oh god,” Mahiru, sounding unsteady.

 

“Take it easy, kid.” Ryoma’s voice responds.

 

“It’s- I think- I know what’s happening.” Mahiru really does sound sick.

  
“What, what, it can’t be!” Ibuki’s voice cries out. “There’s no way.”

 

“Not again,” Hiyoko whines.

 

“What’s going on?” Rantaro sounds strangely alert, even though they can’t really see anything. “Koizumi? What’s happening?”

 

“Usami, explain,” Imposter finds themselves demanding. They need to take charge, in a moment like this, as it is their responsibility, they understand, to stand above others. That’s the duty they play as Byakuya Togami. They must stick to it. “Is it what we think it is?”

 

“N-No way,” Usami breathes. “Not possible, I-”

 

_ “Upupupu, I think it is possible!” _

 

The lights flicker back on, though clouds from outside don’t roll away, and a shudder runs through the group at the sound of that high pitched voice. Imposter feels a hand curling around the sleeve of their jacket, looks down to see Hiyoko pressing closer to them, and gently lays a hand on Hiyoko’s shoulder, narrowing their eyes into a glare. They know what’s going on, there’s no way for anybody to deny it, not after it spoke.

 

In the center of the table, now that the lights are back on, they can see Monokuma, lounging there with its head propped up with one paw and its other resting on its hip in what is presumably supposed to be a provocative position. Instead, at the moment, it seems rather obnoxious. At its feet, however, there lies the broken remains of Usami’s scepter. Did the bear break it? Imposter scowls, gently tightening their grip on Hiyoko’s shoulder, hoping to make her feel safer.

 

“Aw, what’s with the hostility?” Monokuma pouts, if entirely possible, looking around the room. “Do you guys really hate me that much?”

 

“Cut the crap!” Miu snaps. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you even here?”   
  


“Nothing lewd from you, Iruma? You’re not acting like yourself, do you have a fever?” Monokuma springs to its feet and bounces over, extending paw as though to touch her forehead and feel her temperature. She stumbles backwards to get away from it, and Kiibo is suddenly there at her side, resting a hand on her back as though to steady her and leveling a glare at Monokuma.

 

“H-H-How are you here?” Usami stammers. “We- We worked so hard to put up the necessary precautions and keep you out-”

 

“Obviously,” Monokuma sneers. “I broke through, you big dum dum!” It scoffs. “As if your lousy firewall would be able to protect you from me!”

 

“What do you want, Monokuma?” Rantaro asks, and his tone is cold, severe. Imposter is impressed by his glare; it’s borderline terrifying. “Stop the nonsense and answer Iruma’s question.”

 

“Ahhhh,” Monokuma touches its forehead with the back of its paw, making a face like it’s aroused, or something. (Nasty.) “Amami is so threatening, I think I just peed myself.” The bear glances at Kokichi. “Y’know, that might be  _ your  _ thing, Ouma.”

 

“Shut up.” Kokichi snaps. “Why are you here?”

 

“Wow! You were never that serious during the-”

 

Mukuro moves forward and kicks Monokuma into the wall, not wasting any time saying anything until the bear shuts up. “Answer his question!” She yells. “What the hell are you playing at, Junko?”

 

“Ehhh? Junko?” Monokuma echoes, tilting its head to the side.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know who you are.” She growls, pulling a combat knife off from where it’s strapped to her calf. “Unless you want your stupid stuffed animal to be ripped to shreds, I suggest you start fucking talking!”

  
“I-Ikusaba, wait! Wait!” Usami clings to Mukuro’s arm, as though to hold her back. “It’s not your sister, that’s actually Monokuma, they’re not the same this time.”

 

“What?” Mukuro looks startled, lowering her knife.

 

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Monokuma giggles, even though it’s still slumped against the wall. It lifts itself off the floor, waddling back over to stand in front of Mukuro, who backs up in a hurry. Both Kokichi and Sayaka are there at her side in an instant, putting a hand on her back and shoulder respectively. “You do, right? You’re not that disappointingly stupid?”

 

“Stop it, Monokuma,” Sayaka says, but she sounds more afraid than she does commanding. “Just tell us why you’re here, stop putting it off.”

 

Monokuma giggles. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here because it’s poetic, for the despair it’ll cause all of you to destroy these new friendships you’ve found! I’m here to start another killing game!”

 

And for a moment, the blood pounds as it rushes through Imposter’s ears, and they think,  _ no, no, he can’t do that, he can’t-  _ but what’s stopping Monokuma from doing it all over again? It made them kill each other last time, and if their friends being here means anything, then it was obviously a successful endeavour before. Even if they died to save everyone, to get everyone else out alive, they still ended up dying. And who cares if it’s just victims here? Is that going to stop people like Nagito from committing murder? Can they  _ really  _ trust everyone else here not to kill? Can they-

 

“You can’t do that.” Mahiru calls out, and her voice is shockingly firm.

 

“Of course I can! I-” Monokuma falters when it sees the certainty in her eyes; the smirk that’s unfolded on her face. “What?” It glares at her.

 

“Check the rules.” Mahiru says confidently. “Usami took preventative measures to protect us this time. You can’t have your stupid killing game, it’s against the rules. And you can’t ignore the rules, either. It’s not allowed.”   
  


“You have to follow them.” Usami adds on, a satisfied look appearing on her face. “As the head teacher, it is your job to follow the rules put in place! No killing game will be happening here, no sir! I made sure of that, so that even if you come in to try to ruin everything, everyone will be safe and free to cultivate their friendships and their hope! Love, love!”

 

Imposter feels the coil inside of their chest start to unravel.  _ Thank god.  _ Usami took measures to protect them. They’re… they won’t have to do another killing game. Around them, they can see people slumping down with visible relief- though, noticeably, Nagito and Tsumugi don’t follow suit. Imposter resolves to deal with that later. Right now, however, there are more important things standing in front of them.

 

Eventually, Monokuma says, “Wow, you’re actually less of a moron this time. I’m kind of impressed.” It nods its head. “With what’s happening in the other simulation, though, I guess it makes sense that you’d learn from your mistakes at some point! Upupu.”

 

“Other simulation?” Kiibo asks, alarmed. “What other simulation? What else is going on?”

 

“Is this to do with what you alluded to earlier, Usami?” Ryoma asks dangerously. “The thing you were preoccupied with?”

 

Usami sweats.

 

“We shouldn’t be focusing on her.” Imposter says firmly, irate. “We should be focusing on Monokuma, since it seems evident to me now that Usami is on our side, and he is clearly the enemy.”

 

“I’m happy to explain!” Monokuma leaps back onto the table again, and all of the monitors flicker to life, showing the beach on this island. It’s nothing strange to look at, for a moment, until the camera pans out to reveal the people standing in the sand. Most of them, Imposter doesn’t recognise- just random teenagers, for all they know. But there’s a handful of them that…

 

Imposter blinks. That’s Teruteru, isn’t it? And Peko, and Mikan, and Gundham, and… Chiaki… 

 

“Naegi!” Sayaka’s voice cries.

 

“Oowada?” Kiyotaka hurries forward to one of the monitors. “Why is he-?”

 

“...there’s Momota…” Ryoma says quietly, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

 

“Wh-What’s Mikan doing there, huh?” Ibuki’s voice trembles.

 

“Why is Gonta there?” Kokichi asks, at the same time as Angie yells out the same name.

 

“There’s Akamatsu- agh! She’s surrounded by degenerates!” Tenko snaps.

 

“Miss Yasuhiro!” Hifumi exclaims.

 

“Th-That’s…” Kiibo trails off. “That’s all the blackeneds. Right? That’s who’s in that simulation? It has to be, I remember them from the flashback lights, and- and Akamatsu, Toujo, Shinguji, Gonta, Momota…” the robot makes a pained expression when he says the last name. “What’s the meaning of this? Monokuma, did you put the blackeneds in a-”

 

“Who knows! I sure couldn’t tell you if I wanted to! Upupu, but it was all too easy, you know!” Monokuma laughs. “This is actually footage from several hours ago, truth be told, the two simulations are a little bit out of synch, but we’ll be fixing that shortly! Anyway, pretty much, if I can’t make you guys kill each other, I might as well reward you for managing to outsmart me! Usami was too slow on  _ that  _ simulation, so I managed to get in and wipe all their memories to put them in another killing game as punishment for killing all of you! Since they killed you and all, I bet you’ll want to see them pay, right?”

 

There’s a moment of silence.

 

“Why is Akamatsu there?” It’s Rantaro who breaks the silence, hair falling in front of his eyes.

 

“Huh? Why wouldn’t she be?” Monokuma giggles. “You of all people should know that, Amami! She got executed for killing  _ you,  _ after all!”

 

“Fine. But she didn’t kill me.” Rantaro snaps. “That was Shirogane, and Shirogane is standing right here. Why is Akamatsu there? She doesn’t deserve to be there, she didn’t kill anybody.”   
  


“Naegi wouldn’t hurt a soul.” Sayaka speaks up. “I refuse to believe he’d kill anybody!”

 

“He didn’t, Naegi didn’t kill anybody.” Nagito says this with utmost certainty. “He’s the Ultimate Hope, he survived your killing game and defeated Enoshima, there’s absolutely no reason for him to be there.”

 

“Reason? Deserve?” Kokichi echoes. “You think it’s a matter of deserve?” He scoffs. “Gonta killed Iruma at  _ my  _ behest, he doesn’t  _ deserve _ to be there either, and Momota killed me ‘cause I told him to, so why should he be in there? You’re insane if you think any one of them deserves to be in another killing game with their memories wiped. They don’t even remember what they did!” He glowers at Monokuma. “I don’t want to watch your stupid killing game.”

 

“N-None of us want that.” Chihiro adds quietly. “It wasn’t Oowada’s fault, he didn’t mean to kill me, he just got mad, that’s all. B-Besides, it was kind of on me, for… well, it doesn’t matter, but- but I don’t wanna see him have to go through that!”

 

“I let Toujo kill me.” Ryoma slides another candy cigarette into his mouth. “I don’t wanna watch this.”

 

“What?” Monokuma sounds confused. “You don’t want to see your filthy murderers suffering for what they did to you? I thought you’d be happy!”

 

“No, of course we’re not happy!” Mahiru shouts. “You’re hosting another killing game! Stop this, Monokuma, don’t put them through it all over again! Obviously our killing games ended, or else you wouldn’t be here! Stop it, enough is enough!”

 

“How would a filthy despair like you know what enough is?” Nagito asks snidely.

 

“Oh, please, for the love of god, shut the hell up.”  Miu groans. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is but you’re nasty it hurts my brilliant mind just looking at you.”

 

Monokuma pauses, then starts to cry, exaggeratedly. “Boo hoo hoo… I really thought you’d all be grateful for the effort I went to to get revenge on those murderers… oh well.” It sniffles, composing itself. “That’s fine by me! You’re going to have to watch the killing game whether you like it or not!”

 

Imposter stiffens. “Excuse me?”

 

“What, you really think I’d let you worm out of this because  _ it’s not their fault anyway?  _ Yeah, right!” Monokuma guffaws. “I’m doing this for despair, baby, not to make you brats happy! And what better way to induce despair than to make you all watch the people who killed you kill each other?”

 

“Who’s to say they’ll kill each other?” Kiibo yells. “I for one have total faith in Akamatsu, and her ability to-”

 

“You forget, Kiibo,” Monokuma’s red eye takes up a dangerous glint. “That they all committed mruder last time? They’re exactly as they were before, when they hadn’t killed yet. There’s no reason for them not to kill anybody. Look at Celeste, she killed for something as ludicrous as money! And all it took Hanamura to try was the promise of some memories! I could get those dumbasses to kill by clapping my paws, and they’d just  _ go along with it.”  _

 

Kiibo looks like he wants to protest, but there’s nothing he can say to that- perhaps he acknowledges the truth in what Monokuma just said. If they’re truly all people who killed in the last killing game, then why wouldn’t they commit murder again? What’s stopping them from killing again?

 

There’s nothing, there’s nothing stopping them. They don’t even  _ remember  _ killing last time. They don’t even remember the people they killed, or the killing games they were in, or the reasons they tried to commit murder. Why wouldn’t they? Imposter scours their brain for a reason, but… but there’s nothing, there’s nothing that can-

 

“So, it was Nanami, huh?” Nagito’s voice speaks up, and he’s gazing at a monitor with an odd look on his face. “She was the traitor.”

 

Usami sniffles. “Don’t call Nanami a traitor, she wasn’t a traitor, she was… she was trying to save everyone, she just wasn’t the same as everyone else was.”

 

“To have the kind of hope required to attempt to save even the filthiest pieces of trash like us…” Nagito looks down at his hand, a dark smile on his face. “It’s admirable. It’s a shame I didn’t get to know Nanami while I was in the simulation with her, because it’s abundantly clear now, the hope that shines within her.” He takes a breath. “Kiibo, this Akamatsu person, she’s the person who gave everyone hope at the beginning, right? She’s the one who took charge?”

 

“That’s right,” Kiibo responds uncomfortably. “What’s your point?”

 

“...my point is, I… have total faith in Nanami and Naegi, because I know that they possess true hope.” He closes his eyes. “And if what you told me about Akamatsu is true, then I have faith in her as well.” He opens his eyes again, looking coldly at Monokuma. “Thus I have faith in the people in that simulation, that they won’t give in to despair. I have hope that Nanami, Akamatsu, and Naegi will be able to stop anyone from killing, even if they killed last time. I’m not going to give up on them, even if they did give in last time. They won’t give in again.”

 

“...can you really believe that?” Tsumugi asks curiously. “Can you really still have hope in all of the people who played right into the killing game’s hands?”   
  


“Yeah, I-” Chihiro speaks up now, looking like she’s not sure about what she wants to say. “I agree! I mean… I guess I can’t say for sure, but- we shouldn’t give up on our friends. And I know that it wasn’t their fault what happened, it was Monokuma’s fault. It was the killing game’s fault.” She glares at the bear. “Not theirs.”

 

“You’re really gonna choose to have hope?” Monokuma sneers. “Look how that turned out last time! You all  _ died!  _ That’s why you’re here!”

 

“Even so, I…” Kiibo inhales. “Fujisaki and Komaeda are right. We should believe in our friends.”   
  


“Fine, do whatever.” Monokuma shrugs. “You’ll see, though. You’ll see that it’s all going to turn into despair eventually. I guess it’s more fun this way- I get to see all the hope draining from your eyes! Upupupu!” It spins in place. “But since you’re challenging me, I’m going to go ahead and write up some new rules, especially for your viewing pleasure! I got a lot of work to do, so I guess I’d better get going! Later, kiddos!”

 

With that, Monokuma disappears, and the clouds outside clear out again, revealing that the sky has begun to turn a deep orange colour, replacing the friendly shade of light blue that it was before. Sunset. Has it really been long enough for it to be evening already? Imposter shakes their head, disoriented. Too much has happened for them to be able to process it right away, they need to get back to their cabin and think about it.

 

“Look, the monitors!” Nekomaru calls out, and so Imposter looks over, to see that the screen has shifted as well, to show people returning to their cottages.

 

“That degenerate…” Tenko murmurs, watching a blonde girl interact awkwardly with a tall boy with long, black hair. “Stay away from Akamatsu, you dirty male!” She yells at the monitor.

 

“He’d better,” Kokichi says in a low voice. “We don’t want Akamatsu going to meet his sister.”   
  


“Meet his sister?” Angie repeats, tilting her head to the side. “Uhh, God doesn’t understand, the office is closed right now, please try again later!”

 

“I… can’t believe they’re being forced to do that again…” Sayaka mutters, and slowly she sinks down to her knees. “Naegi… and it’s my fault Kuwata is even there in the first place… it’s not fair that they should have to go through it again, it’s not fair.” Imposter is startled to see that her blue eyes are shining with tears. Mukuro, who was standing right next to her, looks shocked as well, as though she doesn’t know how to respond.

 

“Maizono…” Chihiro frowns, a sad looks settling over her features.

 

“There’s nothing I can do about it, either.” Kiyotaka mumbles, and his gaze is still fixed on the screen, though presumably his friend is no longer there. “Nothing I can do to stop something from happening to bro a second time.”

 

“Ah, fuck.” Miu mumbles. “That dumbass is there because of me, right? Because he killed me when I tried to kill the little shit?” She closes a fist. “And I can’t even say anything to him.”

 

“Yeah, think of how I feel.” Kokichi kicks the ground. “He wouldn’t even be involved at all if I hadn’t done anything.”

 

“I… Hanamura just wanted to see his mom again…” Mahiru runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t… this isn’t fair, right? It’s not fair.”

 

“No.” Imposter raises their voice a little so that they may be heard, but doesn’t speak over anybody. “No, it’s no fair. But nothing can be accomplished if we just sit here and complain about it.”

 

“If we don’t sit and complain about it, will something happen?” Hiyoko asks, glaring. “I don’t think so. Tomorrow it’ll be just as stupid and pointless as it is right now.”   
  


“You’re wrong about that.” Imposter shakes their head. “It might seem like there isn’t anything we can do right now, but as the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, it is my duty to lead others, and I will take full responsibility for finding a solution.” They’re empty words, they don’t mean anything to them, shouldn’t mean anything to Hiyoko, either, but her eyes slowly soften as she looks at them, and they know what that look means. It’s trust, isn’t it? She trusts them. So they keep talking. “We  _ will  _ figure out a way to help our friends, and get out too. There must be a way. And if there isn’t one, then we’ll create one.”

 

“Can you say that for sure?” Sayaka questions softly, from the floor. Tears have started to drip down her cheeks, unbidden. “Will we really be able to do something? What if one of them dies before we figure out a solution?”   
  


“Hey,” Rantaro kneels down next to her, reaching out to touch her arm. “It’s a simulation, isn’t it?” He smiles gently. “So they should be fine. We shouldn’t put our faith in nothing, but I believe in Akamatsu, at the very least. Even if they die, even if they keep on with the killing game until almost everyone is gone, they won’t really be dead. We’re all here now, right? There’s hope, Maizono. Put some faith in them, and in Togami.”

 

Imposter nods. “That’s right. I promise you, you can put your faith in me. I will guide you all, and we  _ will  _ find a way to help them, or else my name isn’t Byakuya Togami.”

 

There is silence, after they say that, and eventually heads nod, and eyes close, like all the Ultimates have decided to just trust Imposter. Well, not Imposter. They’ve decided to trust Byakuya Togami. It’s unlikely that anyone would choose to trust Imposter. But that’s alright. The specifics don’t matter, what matters is that everyone is choosing to stop panicking over it, for now. It’ll do no one any good if they all freak out.

 

“It’s getting dark out, and it’s been a strange day for everyone.” Imposter says. “I think it might be in our best interest if we all retired for the day.”   
  


“Uhm, uhm, Togami is right,” Usami nods quickly. “Everyone, please try to get some shut-eye so we can all come back refreshed and rejuvenated! Everything will feel less hopeless in the morning!”

 

And honestly, Imposter isn’t convinced. There’s no way of knowing whether or not things will be better tomorrow. But it would be best if everyone went to sleep, at least for now. So when everyone begins to filter out of the restaurant, they start to follow suit. They watch as Nekomaru lifts Hiyoko up onto his back, carrying her out and down the stairs. Ibuki latches onto Kiibo’s arm and the two of them walk out together, and Ryoma slips out wordlessly by himself. Nagito and Hifumi exit together, striking up a tentative conversation. Rantaro helps Sayaka to his feet and he and Chihiro walk her out, talking casually about unrelated things, probably to make her feel better. Mukuro waits around for Kokichi and Miu to leave before joining them on the way down the stairs, sliding her knife back into the sheathe on her calf. Tsumugi leaves alone, another weird smile on her face, and behind her Angie, also with a smile, but this one seems less genuine than Tsumugi’s.

 

Kiyotaka, Tenko, and Mahiru, however, don’t leave; instead, they start tidying up the tables, with all the fish and the paint still strewn about. Imposter considers leaving, but decides that as a leader, they should stick around and help out. So they walk over to Usami, who is carrying a bunch of rags, and take them from her to begin scrubbing the paint off the surface of the tables.

 

“Oh, thank you, Togami.” Mahiru smiles slightly when she sees them joining, and they incline their head. “I know I was really irritated when you took over last time, but I’m… really glad you are now. I was gonna lose hope there, for a minute.”

 

Imposter isn’t sure if it’s a good idea, but they eventually say, “I as well.” They dutifully focus on a stain, which they are working to clean off, rather than Mahiru, so that they don’t have to meet her eyes as they say this. “Until Komaeda spoke up, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to hold on.”

 

“From someone like Komaeda…” Mahiru shakes her head. “I was surprised, I guess. I wasn’t expecting him to be even a little bit reliable, but he really came through for us just now.” She smiles slightly. “Maybe the blackeneds aren’t the only ones who deserve seconds chances.” She mutters this, almost to herself, and Imposter hums, but they don’t say anything. She’s right, of course, but it’s odd to think about nonetheless. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like there’s much else to be said, so they just slip into a quiet routine of tidying up the place.

 

They haven’t cleaned much as Byakuya Togami, though they’ve cleaned a bit in the past, so they’re not bad at it. It’s actually rather soothing once they get into a rhythm. Even Tenko seems to be ignoring her prejudice against men (not that Imposter is a man, necessarily, but Tenko doesn’t know that) for the sake of getting this all done. It doesn’t take long for all the fish to be cleaned and all the paint to be gone from everything but their clothes and bodies. Imposter is really looking forward to taking a shower later. When they’re certain everything is done, they bid the others good night and head back out of the restaurant and out of the lobby in the direction of their cottage.

 

It’s been a pretty long day. They’ll have plenty of time to unpack it all when they’re in their room, showered and ready to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand that's the end of the prologue! :3
> 
> this one was like twice as long as I wanted it to be because I miscalculated and ended up not doing the fish printing during chapter six... sorry bro... he's on a boat rn though so he won't be able to see this until like. August 11 or so
> 
> anyway, yeah!!! the real shit is gonna start happening now >:3 it's all going according to my plans, hehe.
> 
> so, to reiterate, updates from now on will only come in whenever my brother posts a new chapter. that won't be for a while since he's on vacation, so, sorry if you're really looking forward to this one!!
> 
> if you want more of my work I release new stories almost daily and I do weekly updates for my really big fic, The best lies are the ones shrouded in truth. I'll be going to camp soon myself so there won't be too much next week, and probably the week after that, but keep an eye out anyway! :3c who knows
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed, I sure had fun writing as Twogami.
> 
> read my brother's fic, I dare you.


	9. Chapter 1 | I: Take off your own clothes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoma POV.

When Ryoma gets out of bed, the clock feature on his student handbook (it’s a conscious effort to keep from calling it a Monopad) tells him that it’s just past 5:30 in the morning. It’s not ideal; if things are the same as they were back in his killing game, then Monokuma isn’t going to play the morning announcement for another couple hours and a half. There’s not going to be anybody awake right now for him to interact with. That being said, there’s no use staying in bed while there’s daylight and he just can’t manage to lull himself back to sleep. Besides, even if there was a chance of there being other students awake right now, he doubts he’d actually talk to any of them, unless they forcefully dragged him into an interaction, as Ibuki did yesterday.

 

The thought doesn’t make him grimace as he originally supposed it might. Ibuki seems to be an easily excitable person, but despite that, he can tell that she’s a good person. Kindhearted, and fun to be around, as well. Plus, even though it made Usami add a new rule, he didn’t actually hate the fish slapping. It was a bit surprising to him that he even got dragged into the fight to begin with. But it was… fun. It was fun engaging with everyone else in that manner. (The thought takes him off guard.)

 

Ryoma looks down at his ankles, feels his brow furrow at the strange lightness to them. When he was in the Ultimate Academy, there was a cuff with a short chain attached on his left ankle. Something stuck on his leg from his prison days. But now it’s gone. He half wants to ask about it, but… who would he ask? Usami? Would she even know? He shakes his head, brushing the thoughts to the side and grabbing his hat off the nightstand, where he threw it the night before. Ibuki remarked that it looks as though he has cat ears. They’re a bit too long and pointy to be cat ears, really, but… the thought still makes him smile begrudgingly as he tugs it over his head. This room is stocked with plain white sweats that will serve him nicely as pajamas in the future, but last night he just took off his jacket, shoes, and hat and crawled under the covers in his striped jumpsuit. He felt too drained to really change.

  
And even still, he barely caught a wink of sleep. Ryoma pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders and zips it up, kicking his shoes over in front of him and stepping into them. After an awkward moment of moving his feet, he manages to get his shoes on fully and turns over to his bed. He doesn’t think it’ll be necessary to make it, per se, but he does pull the covers back up all the way so it doesn’t look like a mess. With that, he grabs his student handbook and turns off the lamp, walking up to the door to his cottage and slipping outside.

 

The sun has, as he already mentioned, begun to make its way up into the sky. As a result, rather than the deep, speckled navy blue it was an hour ago, the sky has begun to turn a bunch of warm colours. There’s a slight breeze still in the air from the linger nighttime chill but the scent of the ocean gives everything that same tropical feel. In the orange-yellow light of dawn, all the palm trees look golden, waving up at the horizon in the wind. Ryoma finds himself smiling at how pretty everything is. Even if this is a simulation, when he was on death row, he didn’t think he’d ever see something like this again. It really is the small things that put everything into perspective.

 

Beneath his feet, his heels click against the cobblestones, and for lack of something better to do, he walks to the restaurant. The lobby is empty- obviously, everyone is still asleep- so he just walks past the arcade machines (as he doesn’t really care for video games) and hikes up the stairs into the actual restaurant.

 

A number of things about the restaurant catch his eye when he walks in. First, the large windows that line the walls. They were there last night, of course, but with everything all dream-like in the sunrise, those windows add to the quiet ambiance of the place and set Ryoma at ease. The wooden furniture in the room takes on an amber glow, as does everything else in the room, from the light of the rising sun. He notices second that all the things from fish printing last night are gone. Where they were taken, Ryoma can’t say for certain, but if he was to hazard a guess, he’d say they were cleaned up last night by Usami, and perhaps a couple of the other students in this simulation. Part of him feels bad for not sticking around to help, but last night that wasn’t really at the front of his mind.

 

The idea of having to watch another killing game… Ryoma bites back a curse word under his breath and makes his way over to one of the two person tables by the window. He wasn’t even alive for very long during his own killing game. It feels selfish to be acting so upset by it. But he can’t help it. Just the thought of Kirumi being punished because he decided not to live makes him feel sick to his stomach. Kirumi… he knows, logically, that what the maid did was wrong-  _ obviously,  _ murder is wrong, and murdering thirteen others because of some twisted sense of duty is even worse, but he can’t help feeling bad about it anyway. Kirumi was crushed under the pressure of her own ideals. She was striving towards selfless devotion. That led her to murder Ryoma. And he just let it happen.

 

He pulls out one of the chairs and climbs into it, appreciative of the blue cushion on the seat that makes it more comfortable than it would be if it was just wood. Ryoma crosses his legs tailor style and leans back into the chair, wondering what exactly he’s planning on doing here for two hours. Out of a lack of things to do, he finds his eyes wandering over to the monitor up on the wall. Throughout the night, it’s been showing nothing really but images of different ones of their friends sleeping. Some of them, Ryoma has recognised. But for the most part the faces on that monitor belong to strangers. At the moment, the person being shown has red hair, and a goatee- though one that is different from Kaito’s, notably. He seems to be sleeping well. As well as anyone in his circumstances could be, at least.

 

Leaning forward and resting his chin on a hand, Ryoma can’t help but sigh. Last night, when Nagito and Chihiro and Kiibo talked about hope, it was all very inspiring. He’s glad the three of them are here, to be completely honest, because without them, he doubts any of them would have been able to pick themselves back up again after the bombshell dropped on them by Monokuma. Still, now that it’s the morning after, Ryoma can’t help but be a little skeptical about what they said. Can they really afford to have so much faith in the people in the other simulation?

 

The monitor feed shifts, showing Gonta, who is too long for his bed but fast asleep in it regardless.

 

If they already murdered once before, who’s to say they wouldn’t murder again? Nobody. Even if Kaede is strong. Even if she’s accompanied by other people who are strong. They’re vastly outnumbered by  _ many  _ people who have cracked before. It only takes so much to make a person break and do things they never thought possible of themselves before. Ryoma would know. He’d like to believe that Kiibo wasn’t just talking nonsense when he said he believes in Kaede. He’d like to believe in Kaede too. But there’s still that annoying part of him that wonders if believing in them is really going to do any good…

 

“Ah, Hoshi!” Usami’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. The former tennis pro looks up and over, sees that the rabbit has appeared out of nowhere, as she did often yesterday. Her paws hang at her sides, covered in flour, and Ryoma thinks it’s a little odd, but he doesn’t comment. “What are you doing awake? It’s so early!”

 

“...couldn’t sleep.” Ryoma admits slowly. He’s still not sure what to make of Usami. But they concluded yesterday that she deliberately took actions to protect them. That means she’s on their side, right? He can trust her. So he figures there’s no use in being hostile. (Besides, even if he was on the fence… being hostile towards somebody so flighty would just make him feel bad.) “Am I not allowed to be here?” He grunts. “I know the dining hall was off limits before eight in the morning in my killing game…”

 

“No, you’re perfectly welcome in here, it’s just that-” Usami pauses. “Well, there’s no food out for you yet!”

 

Ryoma blinks. “What?”

 

“I- okay. It’s kind of-” Usami sniffles. “I had my scepter, which would’ve allowed me to control various elements of the simulation. That also meant preparing you guys meals and stuff. I could’ve done it with a wave of my hand! But since Monokuma broke it, I have to make you guys food manually.” The rabbit pouts. “I just got finished in the other simulation and I really really hope their food doesn’t get cold… anyway, there’s nothing here for you yet, I’m sorry… ha wa wa…”   
  


“It’s… alright.” Ryoma frowns, drumming one of his hands on the table he’s sitting at. “This is a simulation, isn’t it? We don’t have to eat to stay alive if it’s…”

 

“No, that’s right, but,” Usami hesitates, as though pondering what to say next. “The Neo-World Program was designed so that your bodies in the simulation would be as life-like as possible! That’s why you all still need to use the bathroom, and eat food, and all that! If you didn’t eat, you wouldn’t really  _ die,”  _ she hums. “At least, not by the traditional definition of death, but it would be extremely unpleasant! You’d still experience the sensation of starving! It’s not something that I can allow, even if my position of head teacher just got usurped…” she sighs dejectedly and Ryoma finds himself feeling really bad for her. “So I’m making you all food myself!” At this, Usami smiles proudly, patting herself on the stomach and getting flour on her clothes. She doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s a lot of food though, for so many of you! You’re all growing people, after all, so you’re going to eat a lot, and I don’t want any one of my beloved students going hungry!”

 

“Huh.” Ryoma decides that her explanation makes sense. At the very least he can see no logical explanation as to why she’d lie to him over something like that. And it’s… kind of her to be running around at ungodly hours of the morning to prepare food for all of them. It sort of reminds him of what Kirumi did, except that… well, Usami  _ isn’t  _ Kirumi, he supposes. “Well… do you want any help?” As soon as he offers he pulls a candy cigarette out of the box in his pocket and slides it into his mouth, wanting to avoid looking at Usami while he speaks. “I don’t know much about cooking, but I’m a quick learner, and I could follow any instructions you have. It would probably lessen your workload. At least for this simulation.”

 

“Oh, Hoshi is so kind!” Usami flutters. “You don’t have to, though, I think I’ve got it covered!”

 

“Hmph.” That really wasn’t the answer Ryoma wanted to hear. “Would you stop me if I insisted on joining you?”

 

“Of course not, but…” Usami pauses, then eventually just smiles, shaking her head. Her ears bounce as she does so. “If you’re going to insist, then, I suppose I can’t stop you! It’ll give me a good opportunity to talk to one of my students, anyway!” The rabbit gestures for Ryoma to follow her and walks on stubby legs over to a door in the corner of the restaurant. The former tennis pro hops out of his seat and walks behind her, murmuring a quiet thanks as she holds the door open for him and stepping inside. They come into a kitchen- one that actually looks rather fancy, now that he’s inside of it. The pots and pans are shiny and new and the whole room is stocked with all kinds of knives and utensils and different kinds of foods. It makes sense, though. Whoever programmed this simulation probably just decided to make everything in here the best of the best.

 

The next couple hours are spent cooking with Usami. Ryoma quickly learns that despite her being a stuffed animal rabbit, Usami knows her stuff. She’s good at advising how to do things, and she speaks with the tone of a patient teacher. It’s so different than the flaky, nervous tone which she used with them the day before. Perhaps it’s just the fact that no one else is awake right now that’s causing this. Part of Ryoma is curious as to where Monokuma is, and why the bear isn’t attempting to interrupt the quiet, peaceful moment, but he’s not complaining. It’s a lot nicer than he originally thought it’d be when he asked to help Usami prepare breakfast.

 

As she begins to make pancakes, as a part of a more traditionally western breakfast, Usami speaks. “You are a very level-headed person, Hoshi!” She smiles as she says it, flipping the pancake with a spatula. Ryoma stands nearby, a plate at the ready, but blinks in surprise in response to receiving a compliment. He wishes his hands were free so he could pull his hat down over his eyes. “I hope people tell you that. I know it’s an odd thing to hear considering that you became that way through trauma, but I think you’re very wise, and polite. You should be more conscious of that when speaking to yourself.”

 

“Speaking to myself?” Ryoma echoes. “What do you mean?”

 

“I just mean that it doesn’t seem like you’re very kind to yourself.” Usami hums, sliding the finished (now golden-brown) pancake onto the plate. A sweet, buttery smell wafts from it, and Ryoma realises that he  _ is  _ rather hungry. He didn’t have dinner last night, after all. “And I thought you should know that I think you’re remarkably well put-together. Especially for someone your age.” The rabbit begins to make another pancake, shifting the pan as she does so in order to make it a perfect circle. “This may sound odd coming from a rabbit, but I was not nearly as level-headed as you were when I was your age.” She sighs, perhaps wistful. “You’re very mature, and mature enough to be kind to others, even when you don’t feel like it. I hope one day you love yourself enough to realise that. Love, love!”

 

Though her words are flattering, Ryoma isn’t really sure how to respond. He didn’t come here to be complimented out of the blue. Still, though, he’d be lying if he said he… wasn’t appreciative. The former tennis pro can’t help sneaking a glance at her as she slides another pancake onto his plate. “Are you… aware of what I’ve done?” He asks quietly.

 

To his surprise, Usami just nods, humming happily. “Of course! Your head teacher- erm, former, head teacher,” she adds this with a note of sadness. “Knows quite a lot about all of you! In order to help you all to become friends, and be the best versions of yourselves that you can be!” She perks up speaking about this, and keeps working on the pancake, but spares Ryoma a glance. “I’m so incredibly proud of everyone, especially after last night… believing in your friends is the best thing you can all do right now!” Ryoma suddenly feels very bad for doubting them earlier. “Keep having hope! It’ll help you through the dark times!”

 

How can she be so positive even knowing the kind of person Ryoma is? He suppresses the urge to frown, lowers his face so that he’s imitating pulling his hat down but remains attentive as she lays more pancakes on the plate in his hands. He supposes it doesn’t really matter. Usami is a kind… rabbit. That much is evident now, based on how she’s making everyone breakfast, and the words she shared with him. She’d… be a good therapist, if he thinks about it.

 

When they finish with the pancakes and everything else, Ryoma helps Usami to lay everything out on the tables they fish printed on last night like a banquet. Now that there’s more light in the room, he can see that several of the fish prints from yesterday have been hung up on the wall. He wonders if Usami did that as well. Just as he walks up to the wall to examine them, he hears footsteps from behind him on the staircase, and turns around, wondering who else it is that got up before the morning announcement.

 

His eyes meet Sayaka’s when he turns and he grunts in greeting, raising a hand as though to wave at her. The pop sensation manages a smile, but she really just looks tired. Based on the purplish rings under her eyes that stick out like stop signs on her pallid skin, he can tell she didn’t sleep much last night. He can relate. The blue-haired girl sighs as she walks forward, allowing the smile to drop. “Good morning, Hoshi,” she greets regardless, and Ryoma nods at her.

 

“Maizono. You’re up early.” He takes out his student handbook, notes it’s just past seven thirty. “The morning announcement doesn’t play for another half hour.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” smiles Sayaka. “The morning announcement in my killing game played at seven. I’m not used to this.” She hesitates. “Well, I guess I can’t really blame that. I wasn’t really there long enough to get my body used to waking up at seven every day.” A look that’s a cross between self loathing and exhaustion appears on her face and she looks down. “Anyway, I was in the lobby, but I came up because I smelled food. Did you make all of this?”

 

“No, of course not, I had-” he turns, notes that Usami is not here. “...help…” he trails off, then shrugs, shaking his head. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Mm, sort of.” Sayaka shrugs. “A bit not hungry, though, if I’m being honest.”

 

Though Ryoma is far from an animated person, he feels as though a little bit of enthusiasm would really help Sayaka right about now. She was, after all, the first person to break down and start crying last night. “Buck up, kid,” he grunts, then steps over to the table where he and Usami laid all the food. “I’m starved,” he remarks casually. “We all missed dinner last night. You should definitely try to eat something. You might surprise yourself with how hungry you actually are.”

 

It seems as though Sayaka is still somewhat on the fence, but after a moment she just nods and watches as Ryoma serves himself a plate full of food that is a bit larger than he was originally planning on taking. Honestly, he isn’t  _ that  _ hungry. But she could use the extra encouragement. Back when he played tennis, Ryoma could eat all of this and way more at every meal and his stomach never stayed full for very long. Being an athlete does that to a person. Looking down at his plate being loaded up like this, he finds himself… oddly nostalgic. Normally thinking about his days being a tennis champion is sad for him, but at the moment it’s… strange. Not necessarily a bad thing, though.

 

Sayaka ends up sitting across from Ryoma at the small table by the window. They don’t say much- they mostly just eat in silence, and the idol ends up staring off at one of the monitors with a strange look on her face (it’s been focusing on the brown-haired boy with the large cowlick for a while now) but Ryoma doesn’t mind. He’s not often much for conversation in the morning. And Sayaka looks tired. He’s willing to accommodate her silence. He prefers it this way, to be honest. After a while, the screen shifts to someone else’s face, and of course he’s not looking at it when it happens, but all of a sudden the blue-haired girl stiffens, a fearful look appearing on her features.

 

The former tennis pro raises his eyebrows. “Something wrong?” He asks, more gruffly than he means to. Sayaka doesn’t give him a verbal response, she just points over at the monitor, where her eyes are still fixed, and thus Ryoma turns to look at it. His eyebrows furrow together and he frowns, slowly standing up from his chair, even though it’s not like he’ll be able to do anything about what he sees on the screen.

 

When the feed shifted, it must’ve shifted because somebody has just woken up in the other simulation. It’s not someone who is familiar to Ryoma, but Sayaka seems to recognise her, as she murmurs a name under her breath. He doesn’t hear her well enough to understand what she says, but it doesn’t really matter. The girl in the video feed has short black hair and striking red eyes- or at least, contact lenses that make them that bright red shade, if the way that she walks into the bathroom to put them in is any indication. The night before, when Ryoma saw her on the monitor, she had two large clip-on corkscrew curls. He imagines she takes them off when she sleeps.

 

Anyway, none of that is relevant right now. What really catches Ryoma’s eye is the state of her pale skin. All over her arms, legs, and face, from what he can see, her skin is red and inflamed looking; blistering and bruised as though she was thrown around and burned real bad. It’s an awful sight. Her movements are awkward and painful to watch. Though it’s slowly making him lose his appetite, Ryoma can’t help but stare, transfixed, as she applies foundation and other make-up items to her face, perhaps in the interest of damage control. But with her arms and legs like that, damage control feels like a far-off dream.

 

“What happened?” Sayaka’s voice sounds far-off and hushed. It’s trembling, like she’s unsteady. Were Ryoma a different person, a better one, he’d reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. As things are, he pulls his box of candy cigarettes from her pocket and puts another one in his mouth before offering it to her. The pop sensation gives the box a strange look before accepting a piece of candy and sliding it between her lips. It doesn’t seem to help much, but it’s about the extent of what he can do.

 

“I don’t know.” He grunts. “When I saw them earlier, they all looked fine.” The camera feed switches to show Kirumi, walking in the direction of the restaurant lobby. Her steps, usually so purposeful and full of grace, are stiff and awkward, and every time she moves she flinches, as though in great pain. She’s wearing so much clothes it’s difficult to see what’s the matter, but it’s clear that she’s in agony.

 

In silence, Ryoma and Sayaka watch the display for a moment longer before the scene on the monitor changes again- this time to show Monokuma, seated on a plush chair with a martini in its paw.

 

_ “Ahem… Hope’s Peak Academy’s School Trip Executive Committee has an announcement to make…”  _ Monokuma speaks those words as though it has a thousand times before. It’s a mouthful, honestly. Ryoma is sure that he’d slip up if he tried to do the same.  _ “Gooooood morning, everyone! Looks like today is gonna be another perfect, tropical day! Now then, let’s show some enthusiasm and make sure to give it our all today!”  _ The monitor flickers back to the feed of the other simulation, this time focused on the lobby, and Ryoma blinks, pulling his attention back away from it and looking at Sayaka.

 

“Everyone else should be coming pretty soon now.” He remarks quietly, and the blue-haired girl nods, fiddling with the candy cigarette in her mouth and looking down at her plate. Ryoma can tell that there’s something she wants to say so he doesn’t say anything else, in the interest of just waiting for her to feel ready.

 

“Do… do you think Monokuma did all that stuff to them?” She asks quietly. “All the burns on Celeste,” that must have been the black-haired girl. “And the… the way that blonde girl was moving…”

 

“Toujo,” Ryoma specifies, but then he nods. “I can’t see another explanation.” He tells her. “I doubt someone would’ve tried to murder so early on in the game. Also,” he adds, glancing at the monitor screen again and watching Kaito make his way upstairs to the restaurant. “Those injuries don’t look recent enough to have been accumulated overnight. Something else is going on.” Now seems like a pretty good time to wonder if he’s miscalculated the nature of this simulation. Before he can think further on that, though, he hears footsteps on the stairs, and turns his head to watch as Hifumi and Kiyotaka enter the restaurant.

 

It makes sense for them to be awake already, if what Sayaka said about waking up in her killing game at seven in the morning is true. (Ryoma doesn’t see why it wouldn’t be.) He nods at the two who have just entered but pulls his hat down over his eyes, not planning on making any conversation. He’s pretty much used up all his social interaction juice this morning already talking to Usami and Sayaka. Anything else would just exhaust him.

 

“Good morning!” Kiyotaka announces, perhaps not getting the message. “Did you two make the breakfast here? It looks wonderful!”

 

“Hoshi did, not me,” Sayaka informs with a light smile.

 

“I just helped.” Ryoma mutters. “Usami was the one who really did all the cooking.”

 

“Usami?” One of Kiyotaka’s impressive black eyebrows pokes upwards. “That’s very kind of her! Where is she? I’d love to thank her.” The moral compass smiles, spreading his hands, and Ryoma shrugs, because he really doesn’t know where the rabbit has gone off to. Maybe she’s attending to something in the other simulation.

 

“Hm…” Hifumi moves over to the table and begins to serve himself, but he thinks aloud as he does so. “It’s just a guess, but perhaps if we call her, she will come? This is a simulation, after all, and I understand Monokuma operates that way too.”

 

“It worked for me yesterday.” Ryoma responds quietly, as nobody else seems to know what to say to that. “I asked her about the situation with the other islands. That was before Monokuma broke her scepter, though.”

 

“Does the scepter give her the ability to hear everything we say?” Sayaka wonders, removing the candy cigarette from her mouth to sip a glass of water.

 

“Is that a cigarette?” Kiyotaka exclaims, startled. “Maizono, you of all people should know that smoking is-”

 

“Relax,” Ryoma interrupts smoothly. “It’s candy.” He holds out the box. “Want one?”

 

“Oh.” Kiyotaka smiles apologetically, but shakes his head. “Well, your generosity is becoming,” yeah, like Ryoma was gonna not offer after Kiyotaka specifically commented on the cigarette. “But I’ll have to pass. I can’t eat candy so early in the morning! I must eat a well-balanced breakfast first and foremost!” With that the moral compass gets a plate of primarily fruits but a number of other things that Ryoma and Usami laid out. He does so with a lot of zeal. He sure is an excitable guy.

 

Hifumi takes a seat and Kiyotaka ends up sitting somewhere else, something Ryoma finds odd considering that they entered together, but he has no time to think much on it because just as they both settle down more people enter the restaurant.

 

“Gooood nom-nom-nomming!” Ibuki cheers upon walking in, jumping up in the air with a wide smile. She seems as though she’s full of energy, ready to face the world, but Ryoma can’t help noticing the dark rings underneath her eyes. The musician acts as though they’re not even there, immediately beginning to serve herself. “Ibuki is starved! She didn’t eat anything last night but she dreamed about eating fish and throwing them at people!”

 

“Y’know, they say that your dreams are trying to tell you something.” Kokichi, who entered behind her, smiles mischievously, and Ryoma feels a headache forming. “What kind of weird shit is in  _ your  _ future if you dreamed about something like that?”

 

Ibuki gasps. “Am I going to turn into a fish?”

 

“I think it seems more likely that you internalised something about the fish printing yesterday.” Rantaro says lightly, before the musician can start panicking. “Your dreams are just the way your brain processes what happened to you during the day.”

 

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Ibuki nods. “Ibuki really doesn’t want to be a fish! At least, not in the long term. Once or twice a month or something would be cool.”

 

“Strange wish but go off.” Kokichi loads a plate full of chocolate muffins and nothing else. “And Amami, that can’t be true, because  _ I  _ dreamed last night about having a giant orgy with everyone here plus Monokuma, and I definitely did not do that yesterday!”

 

“I think that just means you thought about it a lot.” Rantaro smiles slightly, eyebrows raised. “You should probably keep those kinds of things to yourself, though.”

 

“Hey! That was a lie, you’re so mean!”

 

“Who’s having a giant orgy with Monokuma?” Miu, of course, enters the restaurant. Ibuki immediately points at Kokichi, who makes a face at her, and the inventor cackles. “Awh, I always knew the shota had some weird-ass kinks, but I didn’t know he was a fuckin’ furry! That’s disgusting, keep that shit outta breakfast!”

 

“If we’re keeping disgusting things out of breakfast,” Kokichi begins darkly. “Then you should really just leave altogether.”

 

“Eeee! D-Don’t say things like that…” Miu squeals.

 

“Ewww, I think she got gross-whore juice on my kimono,” complains Hiyoko as she and Mahiru enter the restaurant together. When Mahiru looks over at Ryoma, she smiles slightly and waves, and the former tennis pro responds by pulling his hat down over his eyes. The traditional dancer continues. “Stop being gross, I came here to eat. If I wanted to see some girl being a slut all over the place, I’d watch a cheap porno, or something.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure Monokuma would be more than happy to hook me up.”

 

“ _ Thank  _ you. See, she gets it!” Kokichi throws his hands up in the air.

 

“That’s not a very kind thing to say, Hiyoko,” Mahiru points out, and Hiyoko frowns, but apologises, which seems out of character for her, but perhaps that’s just Mahiru’s superpower. (Ryoma forces himself not to think about Mahiru’s superpowers.)

 

More people enter the restaurant- Mukuro walks in alone, followed by Tenko and Chihiro, then Angie, who is talking excitedly with Byakuya, then Nagito, who is followed up by Kiibo and Nekomaru, and then finally Tsumugi, who ambles in by herself much later than everyone else. She initially sits down without food, only for Nekomaru to call out to her and tell her to eat something (the coach has a pretty big heart it seems) and thus she gets a plate and fills it before resuming her seat by herself. Ryoma feels a bit bad for her- she was always kind to him during their killing game, after all- but seeing as she was the mastermind, and all that, he has a hard time wanting to do anything about her solitude.

 

Just as Ryoma is considering getting another plate of food, or something of the sort, a loud scream erupts from the monitors.

 

_ “PLEASE, SOMEONE COME HELP ME TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES!” _

 

There’s a moment of silence in the restaurant, and then, “Kinky.” Miu remarks, as though she can’t help herself.

 

“At breakfast?” Rantaro scolds, and seems very older-brother-y in doing so.

 

On the monitor, Korekiyo is shown to be glaring at the person who screamed (a short, rather portly brown-haired student in a red apron) as he walks past. No sympathy can be seen in his gold eyes.  _ “Take off your own clothes.”  _ He snaps.

 

“...damn, cock-blocked.” Miu comments again, only to wither under Rantaro’s glare.

 

“Okay, so,” Mukuro smoothly interrupts before any other conflict can arise. “It looks like Hanamura just got made into tempura.”

 

At the soldier’s comment, Ryoma glances at the screen, and notices that she’s right; and perhaps the reason he asked for assistance taking off his clothes was because his clothing appears to be… stuck to his person. On the monitor, Usami appears, and they talk for a while, their voices faint but still audible to the entire room. After a moment, of his own accord, the chef seems to unstick his shirt from his body himself, and the feed changes back to the restaurant.

 

“That makes sense,” Nekomaru is saying. “That  _ was  _ how he was executed, after all.”

 

“Really?” Byakuya looks to be equal parts confused and intrigued. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

 

“You’d have to have been there.” Mahiru shivers, hugging herself. “It was awful. Monokuma covered him in flour and egg and then tossed him into a volcano to… fry.” Hiyoko, who is sitting next to her, places a light hand on her arm, and she seems to calm down a little bit, though she still looks troubled.

 

“Does that mean that all the injuries and stuff are from their executions?” Chihiro asks quietly. “I thought Kuwata looked a bit… beaten up.” She looks down at her hands and back up again. “I’m… also curious about the monitors having sound. That wasn’t the case earlier, was it?”

 

“No, they had sound during the night.” Hifumi sighs. “The purple-haired one with the goatee, I believe you called him Mr. Momota, Kiibo- he snores rather loudly. I wasn’t able to catch a wink of sleep.”

 

“If it’s any consolation, Yamada, I didn’t either.” Nagito, who gets less glares this time when he speaks (perhaps because he kind of redeemed himself yesterday by making everyone else feel better about their friends’ situation) sighs, shaking his head. “Though maybe for a different reason. I didn’t mind Momota’s snoring so much. It was more like background noise when I got used to it.”

 

“Oh, guys, look,” Mahiru points at the screen, and all their eyes move to the monitor. “They’re talking to Monokuma…”

 

_ “But is murder, and any other extreme violence, for that matter, not against the rules?”  _ The girl Ryoma watched getting ready, (he doesn’t like the wording of that but oh well) Celeste he believes her name was, is speaking.  _ “Yet you are encouraging us to break that rule in order to leave the island, which is also against the rules. These rules… they contradict themselves.”  _ Her voice is higher pitch, affected by an accent that Ryoma can’t really recognise. She speaks rather formally, with the air of someone who is higher class. He wonders what her talent could be.

 

_ “Hey! Don’t bully your headmaster over smelly Usami’s rules! I didn’t put those there, she and her hope have nothing to do with me!”  _ Monokuma looks indignant. Go figure.

 

“Y’know,” Nagito starts. “I had forgotten how much I hate him.”

 

The people on the screen continue speaking, but eventually Monokuma waddles away, and they speak amongst themselves for a moment longer before falling into an uneasy silence. The feeling in turn spreads over the restaurant here, as well, but the silence doesn’t last very long before it’s broken.

 

“We should speak about whatever conclusions you three came to yesterday, Kiibo, Yamada, and Komaeda.” Byakuya speaks up, his tone firm and authoritative. “I for one would be happy to know the identities of the people on that screen who I don’t recognise. I only know a third of the people in there. I’m also interested to know what you all have decided as far as the situation at hand.”

 

“That seems like a good after-breakfast conversation!” Kiibo agrees cheerfully, though it’s worth noting that the robot is, obviously, not eating anything. “Alright! We can report back as soon as everyone is done! Is that alright with you two?” He looks over at Nagito and Hifumi, who nod, and that much is decided.

 

“Uhm, after that,” Chihiro speaks up. “I’m… going to be looking into the simulation itself… I’m really curious about how it was coded, and all that… so if anyone wants to join me, they can. It won’t be very interesting but I thought I’d mention it.” She looks slightly embarrassed, and perhaps this is what makes Tenko jump up.

 

“Tenko will gladly join you, Fujisaki!” She decides. “And any other girls are welcome too! No degenerate males, though. Just girls!” For some reason, Chihiro frowns at that, but quickly fixes a smile to her face before Tenko can look back over, nodding and murmuring a thanks. The other girls in the room seem to be considering it. Ryoma just shrugs, though, because obviously this wasn’t applicable to him.

 

“We’ll discuss more after breakfast.” Byakuya says, as he slides a pancake into his mouth. (He has a rather large appetite, it seems.) “For the moment, though, everyone please focus on eating. Breakfast is, as you all know, the most important meal of the day, after all. Nobody here should skip out on eating.”

 

“YEAH!” Nekomaru yells, which seems too excited of a response. “I always like to have a good shit after eating as well!”

 

“I’m sure Iruma likes that too,” Kokichi remarks snidely.

 

“O-Ouma!” Miu gasps, face flushing.

 

“Nothing is wrong with liking a nice shit!” Nekomaru defends, which the inventor doesn’t really seem to appreciate very much. “It just means you’re healthy!” He flashes a thumbs up and a large grin. “It’s good that you’re healthy, Iruma! Keep it up!”

 

“I don’t know if that’s what that means.” Mukuro says quietly, and Ryoma suppresses the urge to snort.

 

Eventually they all go back to eating, light conversation filling the room, and Ryoma stands up to get more food on his plate. He took more than he thought he’d want, but he surprised himself with how hungry he actually is. Skipping dinner really isn’t a great decision, it seems. It’s okay, though. The food is actually pretty good, which takes him by surprise considering that he worked on it with a robot rabbit. It’s not a bad surprise, at any rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are again, after I peer pressured my brother into updating his fic instead of playing SIMS. lmao adjfdsj
> 
> Kokichi and Miu are the only reason there's any humour in this fic istg dksfjkdnjbds can you imagine this fic without them everyone would just be drowning in despair
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed the update it's kinda longer than I meant it to be (I underestimated how long the scene where everyone looks at the monitor would be so ajdksbfj) but here we are :3 a long boi to hopefully make up for the long wait for an update
> 
> who knows when my brother is gonna write the next chapter tbh :^) I'll get him to do it soon enough I promise qwq
> 
> later dudes. read my brother's fic. why are you even here, in chapter nine, if you haven't read my brother's fic? smh.


	10. Chapter 1 | II: We... did the tragedy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenko POV.

As hungry as she is, Tenko doesn’t end up eating very much breakfast.

  
The food seems good- really good, actually, though it’s got nothing on Kirumi’s cooking- she just doesn’t have much of an appetite. She doesn’t want to take any of the credit away from the people who prepared it (even if one of the chefs  _ was  _ Ryoma, who is a male and therefore a degenerate and therefore not an ideal person to be cooking for everybody) but every time she looks over at all the food that’s laid out her stomach seems to shrivel up and she’s reminded of the people who aren’t here.

 

Himiko, rather.

 

She knows it’s silly and pointless to be worrying about it so much but she can’t help it. If not for what Kiibo said yesterday about Himiko, Shuichi, and Maki being dead, she wouldn’t even be freaked out, because she has total faith in Himiko’s ability to keep herself alive. She’s a mage, after all! If anyone can survive against the odds, Himiko can. But Kiibo said that she sacrificed her life to end the killing game and Tenko just can’t move past it. Oh, sure, Chihiro’s pep talk from yesterday is still fresh in her mind, and she still believes in the words of encouragement that the programmer shared with her- but Tenko isn’t dense. (At least, not too dense.) She knows that at least part of that was only said to cheer her up.

 

In the other simulation, the people who were apparently voted as blackened are being forced to do another killing game.  _ That includes Kaede, _ Tenko thinks with a tinge of sadness. As awful and unfair as it is, at least with the other simulation and the monitors and all of that, she knows where they all are. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a bit reassuring to be able to see Kirumi and Kaede there on the screen… oh, Gonta and Kaito too, she supposes… and, if she really thinks about it, Korekiyo, but his being such a degenerate almost makes him invisible to Tenko, so whatever.

 

At any rate, it’s nice to know that they’re there. And it’s nice to know that it’s all a simulation. Plus, Kaede won’t let anybody kill anybody! Nobody was gonna kill anyone when Kaede was alive last time, so that will have to be the case this time! Even if they don’t have Himiko’s magic to protect them now…

 

And Tenko’s sad again. She should at least drink a lot of water- water really helps replenish her Neo-Aikido energy and that’s  _ super  _ important first thing in the morning. She would also be happy to do some sparring but the girls here are too pretty and delicate for her to throw, or they’re Miu. (She’s trying really hard not to think about Tsumugi for the moment.) She’s definitely not gonna ask Chihiro to spar! No way! And Tenko tries to avoid interacting with  _ males  _ if she can help it. As she sits, pondering grabbing a glass of water, she catches that Nagito degenerate looking at her.

 

Tenko would be lying, of course, if she said that she wasn’t a bit cheered up by his words of inspiration yesterday, but most of that was totally Chihiro, because she’s a  _ girl  _ and also she’s just… she’s nice to listen to, is all. Gentle and sweet. She’s not really like Himiko, but she has a similar energy, is the way that Tenko would put it. (She definitely likes Chihiro.)

 

Anyway she shoots Nagito a withering glare and he smiles at her, an inappropriate response from a degenerate that definitely warrants Tenko throwing him out the window, before respectfully averting his gaze. At least he’s got that down. Degenerates should know their place in this world.

 

“Hey, hey, Tenko,” at first Tenko thinks it’s Angie talking to her because of the use of her given name, but when the aikido master looks over she meets a pair of pink eyes and smiles, since it’s Ibuki and not Angie who spoke to her and that’s typically how things should work as a general rule. Ibuki seems to be very energetic today, though Tenko can tell that she’s a bit tired, that might be a completely normal thing and she doesn’t want to assume. They haven’t known each other for very long, after all. The musician is looking at her with a wide smile- one that doesn’t betray her thoughts in the slightest. Hypothetically, were Tenko to flip her, she’d be able to tell what Ibuki is thinking. But she decides against it, on the grounds that, it’s breakfast, and Ibuki isn’t a degenerate. “Are you not hungry?”

 

“Tenko is very hungry!” Tenko says honestly, then wonders if that was the best idea, because now Ibuki is going to ask why she’s not eating. She inhales. “U-Uhm, she’s just, not eating because…” she doesn’t want the musician to  _ worry-  _ worrying girls is pretty much the worst thing ever! “N-Neo-Aikido stuff,” she blurts. And Tenko’s always been a pretty terrible liar, so she wouldn’t be surprised if Ibuki called her out on it, but the girl just nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest like that makes a lot of sense to her.

 

“You know, Ibuki has been thinking a lot.” The musician remarks. “About lots of things, but also about things here, and she’s thinking,” Ibuki pauses, as if wondering how to word it. “Being sad is like, totally in style now! I’m considering writing a ballad!” She hums. “But, like, a ballad with an epic guitar solo. Gotta keep the masses on their toes.”

 

“Huh, Tenko’s never heard a ballad with an epic guitar solo before.” Tenko comments.

 

“Yeah! That’s why it’s fun!” Ibuki jumps to her feet, as though wanting to start playing the guitar  _ right now,  _ but settles back into her chair, perhaps realising that there’s a noticeable lack of guitars present in the restaurant. A huge bummer, since Tenko really wants to hear the Ultimate Musician play something. She must be really talented! “Uh, maybe later though. I still need to write a song about Kiibo being my robot bestie.” She slams a fist on the table. “Because he is!”

 

Tenko gracefully decides not to comment on the fact that Kiibo is most likely a degenerate male, as that is not something that the robot has  _ specifically  _ confirmed, and she’s honestly willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

 

“Alright, is everyone about finished eating?” The male who kind of took charge yesterday, Byakuya, has a large voice that cuts through the group like a butter knife. It’s not exactly unpleasant but Tenko still feels inclined to dislike him since he’s a male. Either way, it seems that everyone has been done eating for a while now, waiting on Byakuya himself to finish the generous heap of food he served himself. But it looks like the progeny is done now. “Right, then, Komaeda, Kiibo, Yamada, if the three of you would like to talk…”

 

_ “Hmm… the god’s colossus brings a truth which cannot be denied, however… the fact still remains that one cannot place their faith in such aberrations of the natural order!”  _ The monitors add helpfully.

 

“Tanaka is… the same as ever,” notes Mahiru with a wry smile.

 

“Is it possible for the volume on those things to be turned down?” Kiibo asks. He, obviously, does not have a plate, and though Tenko feels a bit bad for him not being able to eat, at this moment it’s a bit gratifying to see someone else not eating. Even if that someone else happens to be a robot and is technically never able to eat. “It’s not a problem most times but when we’re trying to convene like this…”

 

“I can take care of it.” Mukuro offers, drawing a knife from a sheathe on her calf.

 

“Awh man, Mukuro is so cool!” Ibuki exclaims, and Tenko is inclined to agree.

 

“Don’t vandalise the monitors!” Cries Kiyotaka, looking as though he might faint.

 

“Uh, I think we’re going to need those later,” Chihiro says quietly.

 

“Yeah!” Tenko agrees without thinking, probably because it’s Chihiro. “How else are we going to be able to make sure that everything is going okay for Akamatsu and Toujo and all the other probably wonderful girls in there?” She hates to even consider the possibility that something bad might happen to the girls and they wouldn’t be able to see it or even do anything about it.

 

“Wait, just the girls? What about the boys?” Kiyotaka asks.

 

“You obviously don’t know how Chabashira works,” Kokichi states cooly, looking at his fingernails.

 

“Tenko calls a degenerate a degenerate if that’s what Ouma means,” Tenko starts.

 

“Hey, fucktards!” Miu yells from one of the monitors, and Tenko looks over, seeing that the inventor is trying to reach the screen. “There’s a volume button on here, someone give me a boost!”

 

“Of course!” Nekomaru immediately steps up, and Tenko is inclined to accuse him of being a dirty-minded degenerate male for wanting to touch a girl instantly, but she doesn’t really feel that way when she watches how Nekomaru carefully places his hands on very modest parts of Miu’s body as he hoists her up to turn down the volume. He could really just do it himself, he’s tall enough, but he doesn’t take over and do it for her like a lot of degenerates would, and Tenko can appreciate that. So maybe Nekomaru isn’t too much of a degenerate. (He is a coach, after all, right? A trainer? Maybe he’s something like Tenko’s master…?)

 

Miu awkwardly fumbles with the volume buttons for a moment.

 

_ “How rude… I was just asking! But anyway, you’d think you’d have been more sympathetic to Teruteru, given that you both had a pretty similar… predicament, you know?”  _ As Monokuma speaks, Tenko can hear the volume on all of the monitors decreasing until it’s barely louder than the waves crashing on the beach outside through the open window. Miu fiddles with it for a moment longer then huffs out a laugh, patting Nekomaru on the shoulder as though to let him know he can lower her down to the floor again.

 

“That’s as low as it goes!” She declares, crossing her arms in a very self-satisfied way when she’s on her feet once more. “You’re welcome! I bet you’re all glad you’ve got the gorgeous girl genius here with you, huh?”   
  


“It was rather smart of you to check the monitors, Iruma,” Kiibo says with a gentle smile. “Thank you for that.”

 

“W-Well, I just figured none of you dumbasses would do anything about it, s-so,” Miu stammers, blushing.

 

“Nothing less than what’s expected of the Ultimate Inventor,” Nagito adds with a smile of his own that is a lot less becoming than Kiibo’s. It seems that Miu is quickly becoming incoherent, though, which is a bit problematic because girl with self respect should be so embarrassed over words from a degenerate male like Nagito, but he quickly continues before Miu can melt into a puddle on the floor. “So, Yamada, did you want to start with a recap of what you shared with us yesterday?”

 

“Naturally!” Hifumi pushes up his glasses with a proud smirk, and, well, ew. “Miss Maizono, as I’m sure you’re already aware, you were killed first by Mister Kuwata.”

 

“Ah,” Sayaka averts her gaze, rubbing her arm. “Fujisaki said that Kirigiri unraveled… everything that led up to that.”

 

“She did indeed.” Hifumi nods.

 

“It sounds believable, doesn’t it?” Nagito asks with an odd smile. “For the Ultimate Detective?”   
  


“Detective?” Kokichi asks with his eyebrows raised. Tenko feels similarly, suddenly inclined to look over at the group of them. “Wait, but…”

 

“Yeah, isn’t Cuck-hara the detective?” Miu frowns. “Or- wasn’t he?” And  _ that  _ just makes Tenko feel like crying- not specifically because of the insinuation that Shuichi is dead, though that’s definitely part of it because she really found herself wishing he wasn’t a male so they could be good friends back when they were in the killing game, but rather because that connects to the fact that Himiko is… also most likely dead. Himiko. She looks down at the table, suddenly exhausted.

 

“I guess since you all didn’t go to Hope’s Peak, it’s understandable that you wouldn’t know.” Nagito says this very respectfully, but Tenko still kind of wants to throw him. “There can be multiple people with the same talent. Naegi and I, we were both the Ultimate Lucky Student, just in different years.” He pauses. “Naegi’s luck is definitely superior to mine, though.”

 

“Okay.” Kiibo sighs. “Anyway, I know it’s confusing, but when they say the Ultimate Detective, they mean Kyoko Kirigiri, not Saihara.” He addresses the people from his killing game when he says this- including Tenko, but the aikido master just averts her gaze. “Ouma, you didn’t see the flashback light that told us all about Kirigiri and Hope’s Peak, but she was instrumental in ending her killing game. Your killing game,” he adds, looking to Sayaka and Chihiro and the others from their game.

 

“Kirigiri was the Ultimate Detective?” Kiyotaka asks. “But why would she not tell us that? That would’ve been very helpful information to have during something like the killing game!”

 

“She was helpful without telling you anything, wasn’t she?” Nagito asks with his head tilted. “Her hope… shone strong, even when she didn’t remember her own talent. Truly amazing.” Tenko is really getting Korekiyo vibes from this guy and she doesn’t like it. (She squints as the boy in question, watching him talk with Kaede on the monitor screen and being very suspicious of it.)

 

“She didn’t remember?” Chihiro’s eyes widen. “So, when she refused to tell anybody anything, it was just because she didn’t remember? And she didn’t trust anybody enough to say as much?”

 

“Huh. I could’ve tried that.” Rantaro remarks idly.

 

“You pulled off the brainless act pretty well, actually.” Kokichi smiles a bit deviously. “Even I almost believed you’d forgotten your talent.”

 

“I didn’t wake up knowing it,” Rantaro defends stiffly. “I just saw what my talent was in the note and didn’t have any choice but to believe it.”

 

“You knew what it was, though.” Kokichi points out. “That’s more than Kirigiri could’ve said.”

 

“How do you forget something like your talent?” Hiyoko crosses her arms and pouts at the ground. “Hinata forgot his talent too. You’re all a huge group of dummies.”

 

“Hinata didn’t have a talent.” Nagito says with an oddly superior smile for somebody so self deprecating. “Hinata was worthless trash from the reserve department.”

 

“Don’t say that about Hinata.” Mahiru glares at him. “I’m not really sure what that  _ means,  _ but he wasn’t worthless trash because of it.” She huffs, then looks at Hifumi. “Yamada, you can continue. What happened after Kuwata killed Sayaka?”

 

“Mister Oowada murdered Miss Fujisaki,” Hifumi explains, and the look that he and Chihiro exchange is long and tense- uncomfortable, almost. Tenko can’t decipher it but she can tell that Chihiro is on edge. “And after that-” he breaks off, seeming rather nervous as he glances quickly at Kiyotaka before pulling his gaze away. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again almost immediately after, as though not sure how to say what he wants to say.

 

Carefully, Kiibo explains, “Celestia Ludenberg manipulated Yamada into killing Ishimaru before killing Yamada herself.” He pauses. “It was a very elaborate scheme and she tried to frame Yasuhiro Hagakure, who isn’t in either situation, but she didn’t anticipate that Yamada would remember something right before he died.”

 

“That’s right!” Hifumi picks it up where Kiibo stops talking with the same zeal as before, though Tenko notices that he is very pointedly avoiding Kiyotaka’s gaze. “Miss Ludenberg hit me with a hammer so hard that I remembered that things weren’t as they seemed. We were not trapped in Hope’s Peak Academy as soon as we walked into the building. We had in fact attended the school for a year before locking ourselves inside it for another before we all lost our memories and woke up to be forced into the killing game.”

 

“What?” Sayaka sounds startled. “Locking ourselves inside it? Why would we do that?”

 

Surprisingly, it is Mukuro, not Hifumi, who answers. “Because of the tragedy.” She says quietly.

 

“The what?” Hiyoko frowns.

 

“The tragedy.” Mukuro repeats. “The biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history.”

 

“You  _ would  _ know a thing or two about that, huh?” Nagito sneers.

 

“We can get into that later.” Kiibo says firmly. “The point is, there was a large disaster at Hope’s Peak Academy stemming from the reserve department. Your class, Yamada, Maizono, Ishimaru, Ikusaba, and Fujisaki- you were the only survivors at Hope’s Peak, aside from Komaeda’s class, but their circumstances were different.” He hums. “That tragedy was the reason why you all boarded yourselves up in the school. To hide from the disaster outside. Except that none of you realised that the person who caused the tragedy, Junko Enoshima, was in your class.”

 

“Enoshima?” Kiyotaka pauses for a long moment. “But, isn’t that-”

  
“I was in disguise.” Mukuro murmurs. Her gaze is far away, fixed on something out the window. “Junko is my sister. I was pretending to be her for the killing game. But she wasn’t supposed to kill me.”

 

“Yes.” Kiibo sighs. “As for Komaeda’s class…”

 

“We were members of Junko Enoshima’s organisation.” Nagito explains with a rather flat smile. “The Ultimate Despair.”   
  


“There you go again calling us Despairs and what-not!” Hiyoko snaps, annoyed. “What does that even  _ mean?” _

 

“It means we caused the tragedy.” Nagito replies with a severity Tenko has not yet seen from him. “We worked together with Junko Enoshima to create despair. To create the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history.” The room is silent when Nagito pauses to breathe; the only sounds in the room are of Kaede and that girl with red eyes and silver hair talking, looking around the islands on the monitor screens. “That’s why we were put in that simulation. Naegi did that, so that we could heal. He truly is the Ultimate Hope.” The guy sighs wistfully, and Tenko thinks,  _ forget being a degenerate male, Komaeda is straight up insane! _

 

“So, uh, to clarify,” Ibuki swallows. “Ibuki’s class, we… did the tragedy? That was us?”

 

“Yes, but don’t misunderstand.” Kiibo looks at Ibuki very seriously. “You were brainwashed. That wasn’t any of your faults.”

 

“Brainwashed?” Nekomaru blinks. “That’s- that’s a thing?”

 

“Junko Enoshima was capable of a lot.” Kiibo explains concisely. “At any rate, she brainwashed your class and made you carry out her orders. Naegi knew that, that’s why he put you into this simulation. It’s a therapy simulation- at least, it’s supposed to be. That’s why you’re here. To heal. So don’t… listen to what Komaeda’s been saying. You’re not filthy despairs.  _ Especially  _ not right now, when you’re not even the versions of yourselves from when that happened.”

 

“We’re the versions of ourselves we last remember being.” Chihiro guesses. “We’re only the versions of ourselves that we have memories to support. So if those memories are taken away, or suppressed…”

 

“That’s correct. You’ll just become the latest version of yourself that you can remember. That’s how the Neo-World Program works.” Kiibo nods. “At the moment, you’re the you you remember being when you died.”   
  


Ibuki’s hand drifts to her throat. “But- if that’s the case, then…”

 

“The simulation takes care of injuries.” Tsumugi, who has been silent for quite some time, speaks up from where she’s sitting, by herself in the corner of the room. Tenko jumps, because she had forgotten, for a moment, that Tsumugi was there. “You shouldn’t have any, even if you remember having them before. In the other simulation, that was just a glitch.” She shrugs. “At least, that’s what seems plainly obvious to me.”

 

There’s an awkward moment of silence before Nagito speaks again. “So, Togami was killed by Hanamura.” He starts, and eyes fall back on him again. “Then Koizumi was killed by Pekoyama, Tsumiki killed Mioda and Saionji,” Ibuki flinches but disguises it quickly with a more stoic expression, and Tenko watches her for a long moment. “Nidai was killed by Tanaka, and finally,” Nagito’s smile turns all twisted again. “I was killed, by Nanami.”

 

“Nanami?” Nekomaru sounds awfully surprised. “Of all people…”

 

“It was an accident, on her part.” Kiibo elaborates. “Komaeda set it up so that she would kill him without meaning to.”

 

“My luck is the only good thing about me.” Nagito says dreamily.

 

Kiibo puts a hand on his forehead. “Anyway, I don’t know how all of that connects to my killing game. I’m certain the information Shirogane gave us was false.”

 

“It was.” Tsumugi supplies with a vague smile. “But I won’t tell you the truth for now.”

 

“I figured you wouldn’t.” Kiibo glares at her. “At any rate, Shirogane killed Amami first and foremost but executed Akamatsu for a crime that she didn’t commit. After that, Hoshi was killed by Toujo, Yonaga and Chabashira were killed by Shinguji-”

 

“We were killed by  _ who?”  _ Tenko bursts out all of a sudden. “Shinguji? We were killed by  _ Shinguji?  _ That- that degenerate!” She sputters.

 

“Really?” Rantaro’s eyes are wide. “Shinguji killed two people?”

 

“Yeah, he had some weird creepy incest stuff going on,” Kokichi shrugs. “Something about sending friends to his dead sister.”

 

“Who he fucked!” Miu adds, as if that weren’t obvious already.

 

At that moment, the monitor feed switches to the anthropologist in question- as well as the other lucky student, who they’ve been calling Naegi. He seems to be having an innocent conversation, but that doesn’t stop Tenko from leaping from her seat and lunging at the monitor.

 

“DEGENERATE MALE!” She shrieks. “Stay away from the girls!”

 

“W-Wait, Chabashira, calm down! You can’t get him through the monitor!” Chihiro protests, and since it’s Chihiro, Tenko settles down a little, but that doesn’t stop the rage from burning in her chest.

 

How could Shinguji kill two people? How could he kill the two people who Himiko was friends with? Even if Tenko was mad at Angie, she didn’t want her to die and leave Himiko alone… but both of them? By the same person? The aikido master closes her eyes, thinks of the sharp pain in the back of her neck that she felt amidst the creepy dark singing. The corners of her eyes burn but she figures she shouldn’t start crying, not right now. Still, until Chihiro gets up and puts a hand on her shoulder, guiding her over to her seat again, she doesn’t make a move.

 

“Uhm, anyway,” Kiibo continues awkwardly, with an apologetic look shot in Tenko’s direction. “After that, Gonta killed Iruma, and Momota killed Ouma. The next trial happened because I was… attempting to destroy the school, and Saihara asked me to wait a while so that he could end the killing game through a retrial. He found evidence that suggested that Akamatsu was not the culprit.”

 

“Attempting to destroy the school?” Kokichi asks with his eyebrows raised. “Elaborate please?”

 

“I’m more interested in why Gonta of all people killed Iruma.” Ryoma remarks, pulling his hat down over his eyes. At that, Kokichi stiffens, and Tenko thinks back to what he said the day before, about it being his fault that Gonta was one of the culprits. (Her eyes narrow a little. Gonta, really?) “That seems remarkably out of character for him.”

 

Another one of those long, awkward silences. Quietly, Kokichi says, “I was trying to end the killing game.”

 

“By making log-dick strangle me?” Miu’s brows shoot up. “How’d you reason that one, huh?”

 

Kokichi is silent for another moment, and then- “Nishishi, just kidding! I thought it’d be funny, y’know how it is.” He barks out a laugh, springing to his feet. “And it was! Hilarious, actually. A fitting end for the slut who wanted Kiibo to take pictures of her shit, being choked out by toilet paper!”

 

“Hey! You little shit-” Miu starts, and he darts over to the stairs, pulling down on one of his eyes and blowing a raspberry.

 

“Fun talk, but I gotta run! I’m suuuper bored from hanging around you losers, so I’m gonna go litter!” He grins. “Later gators!” With that, he runs down the stairs.

 

“Wait a minute!” Kiyotaka cries. “Littering is against the regu- wait a minute!” The moral compass is on his feet and sprinting after Kokichi in a matter of seconds.

 

“Boys.” Mahiru mutters.

 

“Right?” Tenko exclaims.

 

“That can’t be good,” Rantaro remarks idly.

 

Tenko snaps, “And what’s that supposed to mean, degenerate?” at the same time as Mahiru asks, “Is there something you’d like to say, Amami?” and he starts laughing, putting up his hands in a gesture that implies he’s surrendering.

 

“Nothing, nothing.” He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“You’re playing with fire.” Mukuro elbows him with a wry grin and Rantaro chuckles in response, glancing at her. Tenko decides to let it slide because Mukuro is a girl, and because Rantaro might be a degenerate but he hasn’t tried to pull anything degenerate-like yet so she doesn’t need to explode on him for no reason.

 

He’s on thin ice, though.

 

“Ehehe, so…” Hifumi breaks the awkward silence that’s settled. “Is that normal behaviour for him?”

 

“Who?” Angie tilts her head to the side. “Kokichi, you mean?” She hums. “Yes. He’s a liar. He does that.”

 

“The twink probably really did think it was funny.” Miu grumbles, glaring at the floor. “Piece of shit…” She gets a lot of sympathetic looks from the other people in the room. Tenko would do so as well, except that there was something in Kokichi’s face right before he ran away that makes her hesitate. He’s a male, of course- one of the most degenerate of them all- but it’s pretty obvious that only one of those was the lie, and somehow she doesn’t think the lie was that he was trying to end the killing game. She can tell, based on the way that Kiibo looks off to the side, that he’s thinking the same thing.

 

“Well, now that Ouma and Ishimaru are gone,” Byakuya speaks up, looking exasperated. “There’s no point in continuing this meeting. We can discuss more later. How does everyone feel about reconvening for dinner?”

 

“Is there anything else that we should meet up and try to do today?” Rantaro asks. “I think Monokuma added a number of new regulations while we were sleeping… I glanced at them before coming to breakfast but I haven’t gotten the chance to really look over them.”   
  


“We should all be capable of looking at them on our own time,” Nagito replies rather than Byakuya, smiling over at Rantaro. (The survivor smiles back, and the combined degeneracy of their relaxed auras is too great for Tenko to handle.) “But if you want someone to discuss the rules with, I’d be happy to join you, Amami. That is, if you don’t mind the company of trash like me.”

 

“Not at all.” Rantaro assures. “That would be great, Komaeda.”

 

“Uhm, also,” Chihiro pauses, tapping her fingers on the table. “I think I’m… going to go look into the simulation now, like I mentioned earlier… Chabashira, are you ready to go?”

 

“Of course Tenko is!” Tenko exclaims, jumping to her feet. (The programmer smiles and the negative vibes from all that just went down seem to evaporate. Chihiro is such a lovely girl!) “Whenever you are!”

 

“Great, okay.” Chihiro stands too, grabbing her plate and pausing. “Should, I clean this…?”

 

“Nononono!” Suddenly Usami appears in front of them, quickly taking the plate from Chihiro’s hands. “That won’t be necessary, Fujisaki, I’ll do it! That’s part of my job here, after all.” She seems a bit exhausted. “Actually, I’m a bit busy at the moment, so you can just put it down here.” Usami places the dish on the table where it was just resting. “I’ll get to it in a flash!”

 

“Oh, it’s really not a problem, I can just-” Chihiro starts, but Usami has already disappeared before she can finish. “Ah… okay, then.”

 

“It’ll be fine. Usami can do it!” Tenko beams. “Does anyone else want to come with Tenko and Fujisaki to look at the simulation? Any other girls, that is,” she adds, so no one gets confused.

 

“I’ll come.” Mahiru volunteers, and Tenko smiles at her, because she’s also a very nice girl! She seems super reliable, too! The photographer smiles back and looks over at Hiyoko, who is swirling her fork in a big mass of syrup on her plate. “Do you want to come too, Hiyoko?”

 

“Hm?” Hiyoko looks up. “And hang out with those dummies?” She pauses. “Well, I guess, if you’re gonna be doing it…” she trails off, then sticks her tongue out at Tenko and Chihiro. “But if you guys make Mahiru feel weird or something, I’ll be really mad!” She threatens.

 

“Tenko would never!” Tenko protests.

 

“That’s settled, I guess,” Chihiro says quietly, smiling and tilting her head a bit to the side. “Let’s go, okay? I want to be out there as close to noon as possible.”

 

With that, the four of them head out of the restaurant, Hiyoko and Mahiru chatting about something or another while Tenko spaces out. She’s still a bit worried, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t, but she’s excited to distract herself with something like this. Especially with such good company! Things are going to be okay for now. The aikido master catches a glance of one of the monitors, watching Kaede and that pretty girl with the large wooden sword investigate together. Kaede’s got this under control. Things are fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter didn't go as planned even in the slightest but :/// ah well
> 
> anyway dbfkjdbjdfb Tenko really be out here hating men huh
> 
> I had fun writing her. what an absolute girl
> 
> later gators
> 
> read my brother's fic


	11. Chapter 1 | III: You're bad at this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyotaka POV.

Kiyotaka likes running.

 

That’s a good thing, actually, because he finds himself doing it… fairly often. His morning routine usually calls for at least a lap or two around his block- though, he supposes that he hasn’t been able to do any running around his block as of late, because he hasn’t been at home in ages. But even when he’s not doing it to work out, he always somehow finds himself running after somebody. Whether physically, chasing down troublemakers and giving them a harsh reprimand, or…

 

Or mentally, but that can be dealt with later. Kiyotaka pauses, as he reaches the pool, and realises that he has no idea where Kokichi could’ve gone. The guy seems like something of a troublemaker, honestly, but even though Kiyotaka has dealt with _plenty_ of those types of people, he’s not… really sure how to read the self-proclaimed “supreme leader”. He doesn’t strike the moral compass as someone who does bad things for the heck of it. He honestly seems more strategic than that. But beyond that observation, Kiyotaka… doesn’t know what else to make of him.

 

He’ll just have to be diligent, that’s all, he decides, pulling out his student handbook. He did a thorough examination of the thing yesterday, as soon as Usami handed it to him, so he knows pretty well how to use it. Though it’s functionally similar to the one he got back at Hope’s Peak. (Odd to think about the building he was trapped in as the prestigious Hope’s Peak Academy when the two mental image he has of the two are still so different.) Most of the features are the same. The only differences are in the details.

 

Though, Kiyotaka has to admit that those are always the most significant details, in the end.

 

He selects the map feature, because it shows where all nineteen of them are at any given moment. Kiyotaka remarks to himself that the bulk of the people on this island are still in the restaurant, though it seems that Tenko, Chihiro, Mahiru, and Hiyoko have started moving… and Kokichi’s icon shows that he’s in his cottage. Satisfied, Kiyotaka slides the handbook back into his pocket and starts in the direction of the cottages.

 

If he’s being honest, Kiyotaka’s never been a fan of vacations. He doesn’t like slacking off, because when he’s slacking off, that means he isn’t working hard! And if he’s not working hard, then how could he possibly be bettering himself in any way? That’s probably why, even if Monokuma hadn’t shown up again, he’d be pretty unhappy about this arrangement, here on the island. There are other, more productive things that he could be doing rather than spending time on Jabberwock Island on a supposed vacation.

 

Though, perhaps one of the biggest reasons why he’s bothered by all of this is, even disregarding Monokuma, Mondo can’t be here.

 

It’s not good to dwell on something that he can’t change, of course, but if he had the option, he’d… really like for his best (first?) friend to be here with him. Mondo is… was… the only person he really felt a strong connection to. Not just in that killing game, in general. Kiyotaka has never had an easy time relating to people his age. They don’t like the same things, and they don’t think the same way. That’s fine. He likes his own company. But he likes Mondo’s a lot more. And now Mondo is in another killing game.

 

(Which he’s trying not to think about.)

 

With no memories of what happened before.

 

(Which he’s trying not to think about.)

 

Or of him.

 

(Which he’s trying _really hard_ not to think about.)

 

Kiyotaka strides, a bit more aggressively than he intends to, up to Kokichi’s door, lifting his hand and knocking. It occurs to him, somewhere, that if Kokichi is in his cottage, then he’s probably not actually planning on littering, and that was probably just an excuse to run off, but if that’s the case, then he should probably check up on the other boy anyway. Just in case. Kiyotaka wasn’t there during their killing game, so he’s not sure what they were all talking about, but the way that Kokichi was acting… it seems like there’s a bit more to what he did than what he let on.

 

He receives no response, so Kiyotaka rolls his shoulders and knocks again. After being greeted with silence once more, Kiyotaka changes his strategy to nearly pounding on the door, FBI style, and shouting, “Ouma, I can see your icon on the map! I know you’re in there!” He considers being more delicate, but decides against it, figuring that if he’s gentle, he won’t get any results.

 

“Y’know,” says a voice from behind him, and Kiyotaka jumps, flipping around. “It’s shockingly easy to trick those things.” Kokichi is standing there, leaning against the mailbox outside his cottage and gazing at his nails. His entire countenance screams boredom, but his lips are fixed into a smirk, and Kiyotaka stares at him for a moment before he speaks again. “They put a tracker in our arms, so I just stabbed mine and got it out.” He shrugs. “Simple, really.”

 

“What?” Kiyotaka startles. “Th-That’s terrible, you shouldn’t harm yourself! Even if it is to get out a tracker! Did you care for your wound properly? Should I-”

 

“That was a lie,” Kokichi interrupts. “My arms are fine.” He holds them both up, as though to prove it, and when his sleeves slide down, Kiyotaka notes they are, while not empty of scars, are both uninjured. “The tracker is in your student handbook. I just left it in my cottage because I don’t wanna be stalked.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on stalking you.” Kiyotaka crosses his arms, and then sighs, uncrossing them after a moment. “But it’s… understandable that you would choose to do that. You should still tell everyone about that discovery, though. It seems like important information for the group to have!” He thinks one of the most important things that a group working together can have is trust. And if they’re uniting under the… uhm… large version of Byakuya, then they should strive to have as healthy a team dynamic as possible!

 

“Who cares?” Kokichi drops his hands to his sides, giving Kiyotaka a blank look. “They can figure it out themselves.”

 

“Th-That’s true,” Kiyotaka begins. “But you should still-”

 

“If they’re too dumb to realise something as basic as that,” begins the other boy. “Then they deserve to flounder a little bit, right? Why play the game if you’re not smart enough to figure out the mechanics of the gameplay?” At this, though, Kokichi smiles, and it’s a devious smile, but a smile nonetheless, so Kiyotaka hesitantly smiles too, despite wanting badly to contradict what he just said. (In the interest of being polite, Kiyotaka waits for him to continue first before cutting in.) “Or maybe I’m just selfish and I wanna keep my advantages to myself so that I can win.”

 

After a moment, Kiyotaka replies, “We’re not playing a game though. We’re all on the same side, right? It’s important that we get along and work together! If anything, the only one you want an advantage over is Monokuma!”

 

Kokichi gives him another one of those long, blank looks, and then shakes his head. “You’re weird.” He decides. “It’s like, you’re stupid, but optimistic, and not in the annoying way like Momota.” Kiyotaka tries to remember who Momota is, but he finds himself unable. Presumably someone from Kokichi’s killing game. Hopefully not actually someone annoying, though he’s happy that Kokichi would tell him he’s not.

 

And he doesn’t mind not being smart. Not one bit.

 

“Sooo,” Kokichi continues, messing with his hair. “I guess I can allow your presence for a while.”

 

“Oh!” Kiyotaka blinks. “Well, I was actually here because-” _I wanted you not to litter because that’s against regulations!_ But of course he’s not going to say that, not when Kokichi’s giving him a (slightly underhanded) compliment and presumably asked him to spend time together? It’s possible that Kokichi is feeling lonely, and considering the harsh way that all the people who knew him during his killing game treated him, Kiyotaka doubts anyone who Kokichi already knows is going to be jumping up to make him feel better. The thought… makes the moral compass feel a bit bad. “Nevermind that,” he dismisses, shaking his head and waving a hand. “I will gladly spend time with you, Ouma!”

 

“...yeah, okay.” Kokichi shrugs. “Come on, I guess.” He walks past Kiyotaka and opens the door to his cottage, revealing that it was… unlocked, the whole time they’ve been standing here. Upon seeing the surprised look shot his way, Kokichi grins, as though he’s been one step ahead the whole time. “What? There’s nothing in there except my handbook, and no one has any reason to take it. The only person who’d be getting up to shenanigans here is Monokuma, and he could enter whether or not the door is locked. Also, Shirogane, but-” Kokichi’s face darkens. “If she even comes near my cottage, she’s not gonna be happy she did.”

 

After saying _that_ borderline unsettling thing, the supreme leader skips into his cottage, calling for Kiyotaka to walk in, so he does.

 

The interior of the cottage is… a mess. There’s a large pile of blueprints on the floor, and a bunch of random junk (notably an innertube, a katana that resembles the one used in Sayaka’s murder, and… a large, life-like figurine of Rantaro?) scattered all around the place. There’s a dry erase board up on the wall, with a number of photographs- some he recognises, like Miu, Ryoma, Rantaro, Tsumugi, Angie, Tenko, and Kiibo, but the rest of them are unfamiliar to him. The ones he recognises are all gathered together on the left, and there are a fair amount of them on the right, but in the middle there are three, circled in red, with the word _DEAD?_ written in all caps.

 

“I keep tabs on people so murdering them will be easier.” Kokichi explains, in response to Kiyotaka’s confused look.

 

“Murdering them?” Kiyotaka exclaims, horrified. “Ouma, that’s terrible, you shouldn’t-”

 

“Nishishi, c’mon Ishimaru, that was _obviously_ a lie. Say, can I call you Kiyotaka?”

 

“Uhm,” Kiyotaka blinks. “If you’d like? I-”

 

“Aww, yay! Alright, we’re besties now!” Kokichi beams, and then falters. “Well, nobody beats my beloved Saihara, but he’s probably, uhm, dead, so that’s… whatever.” He trails off and looks at that whiteboard again, his expression blank, before perking up. “But hey! Usami is getting me a bunch of photographs of all of you, so I can add to my collection! I need another whiteboard, but y’know, y’know! I’m ready to take notes on everyone!”  


“What is… all of the rest of this?” Kiyotaka asks. “Your room is a mess!” In fact, the only tidy part of it is the bed, which is nicely made. It doesn’t appear to have been slept in in the slightest. The thought makes Kiyotaka feel a bit sad. He can’t help it, though, when his gaze still lands on the Rantaro figurine, and his brow furrows.

 

Kokichi mutters, “Eyebrows on fleek,” but clears his throat and says, “Just, stuff from the last game, I guess. I think this is what I remember my room looking like, so the simulation was like, okay, and made it look like this.” He scrunches up his nose, bending over and picking up a blueprint from the ground. Kiyotaka notices it’s a blueprint for a fart gun, and his eyes widen slightly before Kokichi starts making it into a paper airplane. “It’s cool, but kinda hard to walk through. And a little claustrophobic.”

 

“You could clean it,” Kiyotaka points out.

 

“No! I’m a supreme leader, I usually have slaves to do that for me!”

 

“Slaves?” Kiyotaka gasps.  


“That was another lie.” Kokichi pouts. “You’re bad at this, Kiyotaka.” Kiyotaka blinks, because even though he gave Kokichi permission to use his given name, it’s still a tad bit unsettling hearing it. Especially the way that Kokichi says it, so flatly, naturally, as though he’s been saying it forever. That probably has everything to do with the way he carries himself and nothing to do with how he actually feels about the moral compass, but… “Anyway, have you looked at the rules yet?”

 

“Of course, it was the first thing I did when I woke up this morning!” Kiyotaka replies immediately, and then pauses, glancing at Kokichi. “Have you?”  


“Duh.” Kokichi rolls his eyes, but walks over to the nightstand by his bed, grabbing his student handbook and turning it on. “But I figured it would be good to look at them again. Y’know, the reader’s gotta see the rules. Foreshadowing and all that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nishishi, forget it.” Kokichi shakes his head. “But I’m curious about the rules! And I doubt Monokuma is gonna answer any questions so I wanna talk them over!”

 

Kiyotaka figures that seems like a pretty valid reason to take out his student handbook, so he does, opening the rules section and swiping all the way to the first new rule. He glances up at Ouma, who is looking at him expectantly, and then shrugs, starting to read through the new rules out loud.

 

 **_Rule 10:_ ** _In the event that a murder should occur in the blackened simulation, all spotless are required to gather in Jabberwock Park to watch the investigation, as well as the class trial that follows._

 

 **_Rule 11:_ ** _Unless they are dying, spotless must watch the entirety of the investigation and the class trial._

 

 **_Rule 12:_ ** _Attempting to leave the island (or exit the simulation) is prohibited. Spotless must on Jabberwock Island for the duration of the killing game._

 

 **_Rule 13:_ ** _Attempting to harm Headmaster Monokuma, under any circumstances, is prohibited._

 

“You know, he won’t be able to enforce these rules.” Kokichi remarks snidely.

 

“He won’t?” Kiyotaka asks, raising his eyebrows. Back in Kiyotaka’s killing game, they were all forced to follow the rules, because of what happened to Junko (Mukuro?) right before their eyes. They knew that if they stepped out of line, Monokuma would do something bad to them. But… he thinks he might know what Kokichi is talking about, actually… “Oh! You mean, the rule that Usami added.”

 

“Mhmm.” Kokichi nods. “Monokuma can’t hurt aaaanybody this time around. He’s powerless against us.” He hums. “Boy, Usami really is looking out for us, huh?”

 

Kiyotaka is inclined to agree, but he finds himself hesitating when he observes the look on Kokichi’s face. Something makes him think that the supreme leader isn’t being one hundred percent genuine when he says that.

 

They chat for a bit longer, but eventually Kiyotaka takes his leave. He glances at his student handbook again, noting that by now, the vast majority of students have scattered all over the two islands that are available to them. He decides after a moment to head back to the restaurant, where he sees that Sayaka, Rantaro, and Nagito remain, and starts on his way. He’s not sure why they’re there, but maybe they’d like some help. At any rate, he figures it’s the place where he’ll be the most productive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> switched up the order bc I wanted to get this scene in
> 
> I'm not proud of this chapter I'm so exhausted writing wise atm kms
> 
> also read my brother's fic or smth idk


	12. Chapter 1 | IV: I'm going to have a great shit after this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mukuro POV.

When Mukuro steps into the restaurant, she’s greeted by an explosion of noise.

 

“Look at what those cruel, selfish blackeneds are doing to your poor, adorable, loving, useless, irritating former head teacher!” Monokuma cries, gesturing at one of the monitor screens. Since the bear is pointing, Mukuro follows its paw and sees that on the screen, one of the people who she doesn’t recognise (from Kokichi’s killing game) is currently tying up Usami.

 

“Why say adorable and irritating in the same sentence about the same person?” Sayaka questions, frowning. “Isn’t that a bit contradictory?”

 

“Well, you know.” Monokuma shrugs.

 

“I don’t?”

 

“What’s… going on?” Mukuro asks. Sayaka and Monokuma are in here with a few others: Nagito, Kiyotaka, and Rantaro. Aside from the robot bear, everyone else in the restaurant seems to be trying to work on setting up the space for lunch. Nagito, for example, is carrying a couple trays of food, and is placing them on the table. He doesn’t acknowledge Mukuro when she speaks aside from shooting her a glare, which she supposes is to be expected, but Rantaro and Kiyotaka both smile at her, and Sayaka is the one who responds.

 

“Ikusaba, hey!” She greets, waving. It seems as though there’s a smear of batter across her cheek. Her smile is very bright, but it’s hard for Mukuro to think about anything other than the batter. “We made lunch! It was really nice of Hoshi and Usami to make stuff for us this morning, so we figured we’d do something!”

 

“Also, it seems like Usami is… indisposed, at the moment,” Rantaro adds with a chuckle. His gaze as he looks at the monitor screen is fond, something that Mukuro is startled by. (But he was in the killing game with that girl in the gothic outfit too, so it makes sense that he’d know her.) “Toujo really is remarkable, huh?”

 

“I don’t know if the act of tying Usami up counts as something remarkable.” Kiyotaka frowns. “But she seems to perform her duties masterfully! Her talent is the Ultimate Maid, correct?”

 

“That’s right.” Rantaro nods. “From what I saw of her during the time I was alive, and there admittedly wasn’t much, she was incredible.”

 

Mukuro watches the two of them converse for a moment before looking back at Sayaka, whose gaze is still on her. When the idol catches her eyes, she jumps, cheeks reddening a little. “Sorry for staring! I’m just… thinking about how different you look when you’re not…”

  
“Disguised as my sister?” Mukuro suggests, and Sayaka blushes again, nodding. The soldier sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I’m still trying to… process it myself,” she admits, reaching back with one hand to rub her shoulder, remembering the pain of her first injury; a spear that ran right through her shoulderblade and out through her chest. She owes Sayaka (and everyone else) an explanation about that, but before that happens… her gaze wanders over to Monokuma, and she exhales. She needs to figure out where she stands with Junko. Usami said that this Monokuma wasn’t Junko when it first arrived, but she doesn’t think it’s possible that it could be anyone else.

 

“Uhm, for what it’s worth,” Sayaka begins, somewhat awkwardly. “I think you look… nicer, without the wig or the makeup.” She hesitates. “I mean, like, pretty.”

 

“Prettier than the Ultimate Fashionista?” Mukuro quirks an eyebrow, but finds herself smirking slightly when Sayaka startles.

 

“W-Well, I’ve never actually  _ seen  _ your sister before in person, but-” she breaks off, shaking her head. “You’re making fun of me, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Mukuro shrugs, and laughs when Sayaka does, pouting and glaring playfully. She’d forgotten how naturally it comes to her, talking to Sayaka like this, after her memories got erased. Even if the idol doesn’t remember, they knew each other for two years before the killing game. As much as she was trying not to, knowing that it would make things more difficult when she had to execute Junko’s plan, she really did get close to everyone… Makoto, primarily, but Sayaka too, by virtue of her friendship with the lucky student.

 

(Mukuro hopes, a bitter taste entering her mouth, that Makoto gets through that killing game unscathed. She glances at the monitor screen, where he has just entered the restaurant. She figures if he could survive her sister, he could survive pretty much anything, but… luck only takes you so far.)

 

“So, what did you make for lunch?” Mukuro cuts off her own thoughts, wanting a release from the suffocating anxiety that’s suddenly come over her. She notes that Monokuma has disappeared by now, probably because it realised that there’s no one else here that it can antagonise, which she’s grateful for- though she’s certain the bear will be back later. “You’re a good cook, if I remember correctly.”

 

“How’d you know that? We never-” Sayaka pauses. “Ohh, right. The whole memory loss thing.” She hums, moving on before Mukuro can start feeling guilty about it. “Anyway, we made tempura.”

 

“Tempura?” Mukuro blinks. “Wait, are you- making fun of Hanamura…?”

 

“What? No, that was never my intention, I-” Sayaka’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, it was just on my mind and I figured that it- Amami!” She turns around. “Is that why you started laughing when I suggested it? Why didn’t you tell me, you jerk?”   
  


“I thought you knew!” Rantaro protests, raising his hands in surrender. “I figured after the scene this morning it was  _ implied-” _

 

“What’s wrong with the tempura?” Kiyotaka asks, brows furrowing. “Is, uhm, Hanamura not a fan?”

 

“His execution,” Sayaka stage whispers. “We saw him all covered in the dough and stuff this morning and Ikusaba said that he’d been made into tempura and that’s why I was thinking about it.”

 

“Oh… oh no.” Realisation dawns on Kiyotaka. “The- The people from his killing game, almost all of them saw-”

 

“Jeez, neither of you…?” Rantaro looks at Nagito. “You had  _ some  _ idea, right? I’m not the only one who-”

 

“I was under the impression you were doing it intentionally.” Nagito replies, his own eyes wide and innocent. “I figured it was nothing less than the filthy despairs deserve, so-”

 

“Okay.” Sayaka cuts him off. “Nevermind. We’ll just, we’ll work something out. We can, uh, make something else. Like- we can do a sandwich bar, or-”

 

“Good afternoon!” Nekomaru’s voice booms as he enters the restaurant, Ibuki clinging to his back like a koala. She waves cheerfully, beaming, and despite the panic on Sayaka’s face, Mukuro can’t suppress a smile upon seeing them, because it’s so weird and alien seeing the Despairs acting so normal and friendly that she can’t help being happy about it. (She loves Junko, always has, but seeing that class so deadened… broke her heart.) “I smell food, I hope it’s something delicious!” He announces.

 

“Ibuki too! She’s really hungry!” Ibuki adds. “You know, Ibuki’s metabolism is so fast, she once ate a whole buffet and didn’t even feel it a couple hours later!”

 

“Impressive,” Rantaro remarks, seemingly unconcerned despite the absolute horror with which Sayaka is regarding them.

 

“So, what did you-” Nekomaru pauses, staring at the food. “Is that…”

 

“I know,” Sayaka cuts in. “After the conversation this morning, too, I’m  _ so  _ sorry, I really didn’t mean to and it just completely slipped my mind that it might-”

 

“Heck yeah! I love tempura!” Nekomaru grins. “This looks excellent!”

 

“Tempura? Ooh! Save Ibuki some shrimp!” Ibuki squeals, sliding off of Nekomaru’s back. She pauses after a moment, though, looking around. “The vibes in this room are like,  _ totally  _ dead. What’s going on? Did someone die? Gasp!” She widens her eyes, clutching at her face with both hands. “Did someone get killed in the killing game?” Her whole body turns to one of the monitors, and she runs over, jumping up and down to see it better. “Huuuh, it doesn’t look like anyone is dead? It seems like they’re just… eating- oh no! Chiaki isn’t- oh, wait, she’s there, nevermind. I just didn’t notice her at first because she’s so quiet.”

 

At that moment, on screen, Chiaki (who Mukuro hasn’t seen or heard in  _ ages  _ and thus has no idea how she’s even there) says  _ “Yeah. If you think it's poisoned, then don't eat it… but I don't think anyone here would do that. The food looks really tasty.” _

 

“Maybe someone else is dead? This is a really weird way to do an investigation, though, are you guys sure a murder happened?” Ibuki’s brow is furrowed.

 

“Obviously not, stupid.” Hiyoko’s voice sounds from the stairs and she appears at the top, the folds of her kimono bunched in one hand so that she doesn’t trip up the stairs. Behind her, Mahiru emerges, and then Tenko and Chihiro, quietly smiling about something- though they stop and listen when they get into the restaurant. (They must’ve had fun, doing whatever Chihiro was doing… though Mukuro really isn’t sure what the programmer is planning.) “If someone was dead, then Monokuma would’ve made us go to Jabberwock Park to watch the investigation.”

 

“Super lame that no one is dead yet.” Monokuma pouts, appearing.

 

“Go away!” Hiyoko yells.

 

“Aw… so mean to your headmaster…” the bear leaves.

 

“Jeez…” Hiyoko sniffs. “Didn’t you read the new rules?”

 

“There were new rules?” Ibuki gasps.

 

“This tempura is really good!” Nekomaru announces. “I can already tell I’m going to have a  _ great  _ shit after this! Compliments to the chef!”

 

“What’s up, bitches?” Miu enters the restaurant, accompanied by Kiibo, who is smiling at her but shaking his head. Mukuro watches them more closely, since she doesn’t know them or their mannerisms yet, but already Miu’s vulgarity is becoming familiar to her. It’s not so different from things that Junko would say from time to time, so she’s pretty alright with it. “The gorgeous girl genius is starved from all the brain work I had to do this morning!”

  
“Well, you’re in luck, then, Iruma!” Kiyotaka smiles, spreading his arms. (Kind of him to ignore the profanity, though Mukuro isn’t entirely uncertain that he hasn’t already forgotten about it. The cuss words that come out of Miu’s mouth are so frequent it’s easy to become desensitised to them.) “There’s plenty of food here for everyone!”

 

“Speak for yourself,” the Ultimate Imposter, who is still disguised as Byakuya, walks into the restaurant alone. They give Ibuki a begrudging smile when she tackles them in a hug, and nod in acknowledgement to Hiyoko’s yell of  _ PIG HANDS!  _ but head to the food first and foremost. Mukuro is used to them disguised as Ryota, but they play Byakuya fairly well too. If a much kinder, more benign version of the progeny. (She doesn’t mind this version so much. Her Byakuya is insufferable.) “I pride myself on my ability to eat.”

 

“Yeah, no fuckin’ kidding,” Miu says, far too loudly, giving them a side eye. The Imposter, gracefully, ignores the remark and begins to serve themselves, looking at Nekomaru as he begins to engage them in a conversation.

 

Tsumugi, as has come to be expected of her, enters alone, and Kiyotaka hands her a plate of food personally, his expression far too soft for someone who is dealing with a mastermind (though it is this very quality that Mukuro supposes she should be grateful for, in him); Hifumi does the same, though he immediately ends up at Nagito’s side, discussing something or another. Hifumi remembers being at Hope’s Peak, apparently, which is why he’s treating Nagito with so much patience rather than irritation… though Mukuro imagines he’d do that anyway. Hifumi isn’t such a bad guy, even if he seems a tad perverted, from time to time.

 

Angie comes in next, and she’s dragging along Ryoma, chatting brightly about something that Mukuro isn’t in earshot to hear, though she does read the word  _ God  _ on Angie’s lips a couple times, which gives her a pretty good impression of what the artist is saying. The room is full, and people are talking casually and serving themselves, and everything feels pretty normal for a long moment, to the point where Mukuro is pretty sure that this is everyone.

 

Except that there’s a part of her saying that someone is missing, and she can’t shake off the thought. But who-

 

“Weird that Ouma isn’t here, huh?” Rantaro settles in at her side, crossing his arms and frowning at the top of the stairs like they’ve done something to offend him. Mukuro thinks that she’d hate to be on the other side of that glare, because she can’t imagine a way of feeling like a bigger disappointment than being looked at like that by someone as relaxed as the survivor. (Except, she supposes, for being called a disappointment by her sister. Nothing could ever dream of matching that feeling.) “You noticed too, right? That’s why you’re hanging to the side?”

 

Mukuro contemplates telling him that she didn’t notice that it was Kokichi specifically who was missing, only that she knew someone wasn’t here, but she decides against it. Instead she nods her head, glancing at the monitor. Leon is smiling on screen, talking to that large boy in the green suit, and then people are laughing, and she sighs, looking back at Rantaro, who’s actually standing next to her. His gaze is expectant, like he’s waiting for her to say something. “Maybe he’s not hungry.” She offers.

 

“Do you really think that?” It seems like a genuine question, but Mukuro can’t unhear the judgement that would be in Junko’s voice, if she was the one asking. The soldier presses her lips together and looks away again.

 

“I don’t know him well enough to say,” she replies, a tad moodily, and feels bad for being a bit snippy when Rantaro frowns. “Everyone here died, right? Maybe he’s not handling it so well. He seemed upset this morning, when Iruma talked about that guy killing her.”

 

“He did, huh?” Rantaro hums. “I thought so, but…” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m probably looking too much into it.”

 

“If you want to talk to him,” Mukuro pauses. “Then do it. The worst that could happen is that you’re wrong and he thinks you’re overreacting. He’ll make fun of you but he’ll know you care. It’s a done deal.” She shrugs. “Ouma seems like someone with a good heart, so if you’re vulnerable when you talk to him, he won’t take advantage of it?”

 

“Do you speak from experience?” Rantaro questions, tilting his head to the side. And before she can even begin to unpack that, there’s the sound of a plate shattering, and Tenko jumps on top of the table, yelling at Nagito.

 

“Degenerate!” She all but screeches. “You don’t have the right to insult Koizumi!”

 

“Tenko, it’s fine,” Mahiru tries to say. “He’s like that with everyone from our class, it seems, so you don’t need to defend my honour or anything-”

 

“I’m just telling the truth, Chabashira,” Nagito defends. “Despairs like us don’t have the right to engage with beautiful, hopeful individuals such as yourself.”

 

“Ohhh, as a male, you should talk about not having the right to engage with beautiful people,” Tenko seethes, as though prepared to say more, and in the commotion, Rantaro walks over to end the conflict, and Mukuro slips out of the restaurant. She’s not very hungry, anyway. She’ll eat at dinner.

 

It’s strange, Mukuro decides later, sitting on the beach with one of her legs bent and the other spread in front of her. Being here, that is. Spending time with people who she doesn’t know. Being in a situation where she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. She figures Junko is behind this, because who else could it be? Who else would make a killing game happen? (Aside from Tsumugi, naturally, but her case seems to be more that of a deranged fangirl, if anything… one of those despairful people who followed Junko religiously, despite not having been brainwashed, like class 77-B.) But she’s not  _ sure.  _ And she hates that, not being certain.

 

It wasn’t like she knew everything in the last killing game. Junko was the brains in the whole operation, and there were obviously things the analyst kept from her, but Mukuro at least could trust that her sister had a plan, and that she had a role in it. Whatever was happening, they were in it together.

 

That clearly isn’t the case anymore, since Junko killed her. Maybe it was never the case. But how does she cope with that? Junko was all she had. All she cared about. Mukuro leans back, resting in the sand, and gazes up at the clouds. How does she deal with this without her sister here to explain things in that patronising way that she always did? She can think for herself, of course, and in fact does so rather well, but… surely, there was a reason she needed Junko around to dumb things down for her?

 

(Isn’t it all the more disappointing, Mukuro thinks, that she needs her  _ younger  _ sister around to tell her what’s true and what isn’t?)

 

She doesn’t realise it when she dozes off, isn’t trying to, but when she opens her eyes again, it’s to the knowledge that she’s suddenly a bit colder than she was when she fell asleep. It’s not cold, exactly- probably because the simulation wasn’t programmed to make it ever be truly cold, and Mukuro has slept in much colder- but the sun isn’t shining overhead anymore. It’s touching the horizon, now, turning the water orange and red and purple, and it’s rather pretty, but Mukuro is more surprised that she fell asleep all the way from early afternoon to sunset. What time is it, even?

 

Yawning, she pulls out her student handbook, and sees that it’s getting closer to ten o’clock in the evening. Yikes. She’s been out here for a while. Eight hours doesn’t really constitute a  _ nap.  _ She’s not going to get a wink of sleep tonight.

 

Mukuro pulls herself to her feet, dusting the sand off her skirt and out of her hair, before turning and starting back in the direction of her cottage. She’s hungry, but it’s probably too late for dinner, so she’ll just hold out until morning. She does pretty well without food, actually. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why she’s the Ultimate Soldier.

 

Before she gets back to her cottage, though, the monitors flicker on, and Monokuma appears in them. Assuming that it’s simply ten in the evening, Mukuro huffs out a sigh and continues walking, but the bear doesn’t give the usual nighttime announcement.

 

_ “Ahem! Hope’s Peak Academy’s School Trip Executive Committee has an announcement to make! It is now 10PM, and while that would ordinarily mean that you should be in your cottages having sweet dreams… all spotless, please report to Jabberwock Park! There’s a special surprise waiting for you there!” _

 

And Mukuro thinks,  _ there are no repercussions if I don’t go.  _ As tempting as that is, though, she… she feels like it would be irresponsible if she skipped out on going to the park. Everyone else here probably follows what Monokuma says without thinking about it, and it… wouldn’t really be fair for her to dip. Besides, even if Usami put all those special rules in place to protect them, she doesn’t exactly trust that Monokuma can’t hurt them. (Or, that Monokuma can’t hurt the blackeneds as punishment instead, if they misbehave.)

 

So she rolls her shoulders and walks to the Central Island. Along the way, she ends up falling to step next to Ryoma, who is alone, now- not being forced to interact with anybody this time, it seems- and he doesn’t say anything, so neither does she. It’s not an unpleasant silence, though. Ryoma radiates a wise energy that Mukuro can appreciate. He’s a quiet person. She likes quiet people. They don’t give her a headache.

 

Upon reaching Jabberwock Park, Mukuro sees that almost everyone is here. Kokichi, this time, is present, and harassing Kiibo, who looks… remarkably annoyed, but seems to be tolerating it, for whatever reason. Mahiru is sitting on one of the benches, Hiyoko resting tiredly against her arm, and chatting with Angie, who is seated on the arm of the bench on the photographer’s other side. The Imposter is talking to Ibuki, who seems to be vibrating with energy despite the hour, and Nekomaru is standing there too, adding on with enthusiasm to a couple of the things that Ibuki says, every once in a while. (Who knows what kind of nonsense they’re spouting.)

 

Chihiro and Tenko are together, again, but this time joined by Sayaka, who smiles when she makes eye contact with Mukuro and beckons her over. (The soldier resolves to respond to that when she’s finished taking note of everyone here.) Nagito and Hifumi, as ever, are talking, and Tsumugi is standing by herself, examining the statue with a dreamy look on her face. That’s everyone who got here before her, but when Mukuro glances back, she sees Kiyotaka and Miu arriving, the former lecturing the latter about something the soldier doesn’t care to listen to (but has a pretty good guess as to the specifics) and finally, Rantaro shows up behind them, giving an apologetic smile and a,  _ oh, I’m the last one to arrive, that’s embarrassing,  _ that makes Mukuro think that he’s far more worried than he’s letting on.

 

She doesn’t care to deal with that, though, so she nods when they make eye contact but heads over to Sayaka, because she gestured for her to join earlier, and seems like the most relaxing person to talk to in the park right now.

 

“Hi, Ikusaba,” the idol greets, smiling again, and Mukuro nods her head, finding that it’s hard to muster the energy to reciprocate right now.

 

“Oh, Ikusaba, I’m glad you’re here,” Chihiro says quietly, and Mukuro meets his eyes. He seems a bit nervous, so Mukuro doesn’t call attention to the fact that everyone is here, and instead focuses on him, to let him know that he’s got her focus. “I, uhm, wanted to ask if you’re available tomorrow.”

 

“Well, I have this lunch date with the prime minister tomorrow that I can’t miss,” Mukuro replies flatly, and Chihiro flushes.

 

“I know it’s a stupid question,” he mumbles, looking away. “I just-”

 

“It’s okay, I was just pulling your leg.” Mukuro assures. “I don’t have plans for tomorrow, what did you want to ask?”

 

“You have a sharp eye, right?” He blurts, and Mukuro raises her eyebrows. “That was the first thing I noticed about you, when we were in the killing game. I thought it was strange for a fashionista to be so observant in ways that a fashionista maybe wouldn’t. Not that a fashionista can’t be observant! I just thought it was a bit out of character? At least in relation to the Junko Enoshima I read about in magazines.” Well, Junko is very observant, but Chihiro would have no way of knowing that. He doesn’t remember knowing her, after all. “But that’s actually because you’re a soldier, right?”

 

“It’s more the reason  _ why  _ I’m a soldier.” Mukuro replies slowly. “But yeah, I guess. What’s your point?”

 

“I’d like you to help me tomorrow.” Chihiro explains. “I actually wanted to ask you during lunch, but you left before everyone else, and then I had to get right back to what I was doing because I didn’t want to miss more than I was already missing to get lunch.” He fusses with the ribbon on his uniform. “We’re trying to find loops in the code. I’d like to figure out the simulation, if possible. So I’ve been taking pictures of the clouds and comparing them. I haven’t found any loops yet, though. My eye isn’t sharp enough.”

 

“So, you think I’d be better suited to the task?” Mukuro summarises, tilting her head. Chihiro nods, averting his gaze, as though he’s embarrassed. She hums. She wouldn’t mind, honestly. Chihiro is a very sweet guy, and one of the more quiet of her classmates, so his presence won’t stress her out. Based on the way Tenko has been hanging around him, she’ll probably be there too, and that sounds like a bit much, but she’s sure Tenko will calm down if Chihiro asks. “Sure, I’ll join you tomorrow.” She agrees finally. “There are worse ways to spend my time than trying to figure out the coding in a simulation with the Ultimate Programmer,” she adds, and is about to say more, when-

 

A panel opens up in the tiles, all around the statue, and it appears as though it’s about to sink into the ground. Kokichi, who is standing right next to the statue, stumbles, but Kiibo grabs his arm and yanks him hard over to the more stable ground- where they promptly fall over. (Kiibo must be pretty weak, which is surprising for a robot.) Moments later, the statue sinks into the ground, just as Mukuro predicted, and in its place rises a… large TV screen. It’s like one of the monitors, as the word  _ Monocam  _ is printed on the very top, but it’s essentially a large flat-screen TV that’s just risen from the ground in the place of the statue.

 

_...odd,  _ Mukuro decides, but before she can think anything else, the screen flickers on, showing them… Jabberwock Park. But not Jabberwock Park.

 

Well, yes, it’s Jabberwock Park, but not the one they’re currently standing in. The Jabberwock Park in the other simulation. Crowding around the statue in this simulation, rather than the spotless, are all the blackeneds. On screen, Mukuro watches Monokuma and Usami fighting, and notes with a wince that the sounds from the large screen are much louder than the ones from the monitors on the island.

 

“What’s the reason for the theatrics?” The Imposter demands, irate.

 

“He’s probably gonna kill everybody!” Kokichi gasps, eyes welling with (likely fake) tears. “And he’s showing it to us to cause despair!”

 

“D-Don’t think like that, Ouma,” Kiyotaka begins, as though to comfort him.

 

“He’s lying,” Kiibo groans, pulling himself up from the ground. “What do you actually think is happening, Ouma? You wouldn’t be snarky unless you had an idea.”

 

“Oh, I have a lot of ideas.” Kokichi replies slyly. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna share them.”

 

“Pay attention!” Mahiru snaps. “Do I have to call both of you unreliable like I did with Hinata?”   
  


“No, you don’t have to do that,” Kiibo assures quickly, returning his gaze to the screen, and Kokichi lets out a faint  _ nishishi  _ but does as she says. Mahiru huffs out something that sounds like  _ irresponsible boys  _ and Tenko nods sagely in agreement. Mukuro sighs, looking back to the screen too.

 

_ “Killers? I-I’m sorry, b-but I don’t remember k-killing anyone… d-did I do it by accident? I’m sorry!”  _ Mikan blurts on screen, and she crosses her arms over her head in that scared way she always did whenever the slightest disruption occurred. Mukuro thinks,  _ I miss Tsumiki,  _ and the thought startles her.

 

The maid, who Rantaro called Toujo earlier, is quick to assure the nurse before addressing Monokuma.  _ “What is the purpose of our meeting here?”  _ She asks, and follows up with:  _ “Surely you did not summon us all here to watch you kick Usami into orbit?” _

 

“He would, though.” Tsumugi remarks idly. Nobody seems to know what to say to that, and even though she’s correct, it seems as though none of the other students want to touch that. Mukuro feels a bit bad for her, but squashes it down in favour of looking at the screen once again, watching as Monokuma does a flip on stage and appears in a suit.

 

_ “Our motive is… Global Warming!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmm I love... my wife...
> 
> me, planning the next couple chapters: I wonder if I should make more of an effort to write from the perspective of the male characters
> 
> me, being gay: nah
> 
> anyway dsbfakjdshf hope you enjoyed the next one is coming soon I swear
> 
> in the meantime go read my brother's fic you goddamn heathen of a child


	13. Chapter 1 | V: You're making a jacket out of swim shorts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: strangling description,,

Ibuki doesn’t sleep very well.

 

She likes sleeping; rather a lot, actually. She goes back and forth between liking cats more and liking dogs more depending on the day, but one thing she’s never changed her mind on has been cat naps. If she’s ever tired from a concert, or bored, or just trying to cheer someone up somehow, one of her go-to solutions is a quick cat nap. She’s nowhere near Chiaki (poor Chiaki, being in another killing game… she’s trying really hard not to think about it) but she’s even pretty good at sleeping standing up! Ibuki thinks, compared to everything that she does, she probably sleeps the most.

 

But she doesn’t catch a wink of sleep tonight. It’s not the act of actually falling asleep that’s a problem for her. She spent the majority of today following around Byakuya and giving Kiibo more training, so she’s thoroughly tired out by the time she gets back to her cottage. And since everything is so familiar to her, in a pleasant way, she doesn’t find it strange at all to crawl under the covers and just fall asleep. The blankets provide good insulation and the pillow underneath her head is soft, she immediately drifts off into the world of dreams.

 

Only, once as she’s completely surrounded by darkness, Ibuki becomes away of a tight, pulling sensation around her throat. It’s rough and painful and it’s blocking her airway. Her eyes are open, she thinks, but she can’t see anything, except for dimmed yellow lights (like stage lights) and red fuzz at the edges of her vision. When she reaches up to her neck, in an attempt to pry whatever it is off of her, her stubby fingernails scuff against thick rope and she winces at the dry pain in her fingertips. The rope tightens, and she opens her mouth to cough, but she can’t get any air. All that comes out is a dry wheeze, and the taste of blood on her tongue.

 

When Ibuki squeezes her eyes shut and tries to ignore the pain in her neck, the dizziness in her head from lack of oxygen, her thoughts shoot towards her knees, bare for some reason and pressed against a cool, dusty floor. It’s smooth underneath her but there’s a tiny rock pressing into her left knee and it hurts. Everything feels cold, actually, very cold, but she feels so warm… warm and unpleasant, like she’s got a fever. Ibuki knows a fair amount about self-defense, because she gets into trouble a lot and so there are a number of things that she learns from experience, but for some reason, even though she desperately wants to, she can’t make herself slam her elbows backwards, or bend her back and knock her head into the gut of whoever is strangling her. She can’t even-

 

Ibuki wakes up, gasping and clutching at her neck, and falls off her bed. For a moment, she thinks that she’s being choked again, because there’s something around her neck and she can’t breathe- but it’s only her blankets, which she got wrapped up in, thrashing in her sleep. Apparently, even though she couldn’t move in her  _ dream,  _ she could move plenty in real life.

 

After about a minute of meaningless struggling, she finds it in herself to calm down, breathing heavily. Every lungful of oxygen feels like a privilege, and for a moment that’s all she can think about, to the extent where she’s not sure where she is. It’s dark here, and the floor under her is… well, it’s cold, what she can feel of it. But there’s moonlight streaming in through the window, and it illuminates the familiar clutter of her cottage. Ibuki sucks in another forbidden breath of air and carefully extricates herself from her blankets. Even though it’s probably a stupid idea, she shuffles to her feet and walks into her bathroom, flicking on the light and blinking at herself in the wide mirror hung up on the wall.

 

Yeah, no rope burns or anything around her neck. Just a bunch of red marks, but Ibuki thinks those are probably from clawing at her neck in her sleep, rather than any actual ropes. Just a nightmare. (A memory, Ibuki thinks, then dismisses the thought.)

 

She runs a hand through her hair, observes how flushed her cheeks are, and says aloud, “Well, that’s not very cash-money of you, Ibuki.” It’s supposed to make her laugh, or calm her down, but it doesn’t really help. Her voice sounds shaky and hoarse, and she knows it’s because she just woke up but her brain is still screaming at her that it’s that way because she was just strangled, and then she’s thinking about that stupid rope again, biting into her neck, and-

 

And she looks at the monitor in her cottage, because of course there’s one even in the bathroom, and watches Mikan’s chest rise and fall for a moment onscreen. Is Monokuma showing footage of her in her cottage on purpose? Does he know about Ibuki’s nightmares? He couldn’t, they’re all in her head, but… Ibuki rubs at her throat for a moment longer, remembering the pain, and shakes her head, trying to clear her mind. No one is going to be strangling her tonight. She’s just remembering stuff. It’s fine.

 

This time, before she goes to sleep, she takes out the horns in her hair and throws off her school uniform as well before crawling under the covers. The sheets feel cool underneath her bare skin but it’s a different kind of coolness, more pleasant, and she doesn’t feel as hot or disoriented as she did during her dream. Before she nods off, Ibuki throws a couple punches at the ceiling, even though there’s no chance of them landing. She’s getting bored of wearing the same school uniform every day. In the morning, she should stop by the market and see if they have any good clothes for her, or even something she could use to make some.

 

(Ibuki drifts off thinking about it, only to jolt awake again in less than an hour with the same nightmare. She tries sleeping a few more times, and yields the same results, until eventually at around four in the morning, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and decides that she’s gotten enough sleep.)

 

She feels exhausted, and her muscles all beg for her to stop as she gets to her feet, but she ignores them. Styling her hair feels like a hassle but everyone would be worried if she didn’t so after putting her clothes on Ibuki carefully wraps her hair into the two horns on her head. She grabs the rest of her hair in one hand and ties it into a ponytail, because it all keeps falling into her face, and splashes water into her eyes, hoping that’ll clear out some of the grogginess.

 

It doesn’t. In fact, it sort of makes the redness of her face from not sleeping seem even worse. Ibuki shrugs, because it’s nothing some concealer can’t fix, and ignores the way her hand shakes as she applies mascara.

 

By the time Ibuki exits her cottage, the sun has begun to rise over the horizon. She glances at her student handbook, and it tells her that it’s getting closer to five thirty. She must be moving really slow, if getting ready took an hour and a half. Though, admittedly, she probably spent most of it on her hair. She lingers at the pool, looking down at the blue tinted water and pondering the faint purple colour it’s turned in the pink glow of the sunrise. Ibuki thinks back to two days ago, when she first woke up again in the simulation, when a lot of them went swimming. She’s pretty sure Angie made it happen so everyone would feel better. She wonders if she’d feel any better if she went swimming now.

 

But after a moment, she decides against going for a dip, because she’s pretty sure that swimming right now would just make her cold. She’s actually extremely cold at the moment. She could’ve grabbed a blanket or something, but that feels lame. Instead, Ibuki heads for the supermarket, deciding that now is as good a time as any to make herself some new clothes.

 

It’s dark when she opens the door, but when she steps in automatic lights flicker on, and Ibuki thinks,  _ if this is a simulation, why do they need automatic lights?  _ But her understanding of simulations is actually pretty limited, so maybe they’re just trying to conserve power. Though, if she’s correct, then technically areas that nobody is in don’t really exist unless people are in them. So this part of the island only just came back into existence when she walked in. Kinda crazy. Thinking about this as a simulation kinda hurts her brain, though, so she decides that she’ll shelf that one for later.

 

There are a lot of dry suits. Ibuki doesn’t like them very much, because she’s not planning on going for a swim, but the fabric might be kinda cool for a fanny pack. She’ll come back to them, if she gets bored. In aisles beyond the dry and wet suits, she finds a number of hawaiian t-shirts and gross beige shorts with a lot of pockets, as well as flip-flops of all sorts of colours. She likes the ones that are bright pink, so she grabs a pair, but moves on. There are some plain white tank tops, and though Ibuki would never wear one on its own, she grabs several for the fabric. She notices t-shirts and sweat pants with Jabberwock Island printed on the front and grabs a pair of sweat pants for sleeping, and then finally comes up to the swim suits.

 

She doesn’t pay any attention to the bikinis for now, though she’s sure they’ll come in handy later; instead she grabs several pairs of swim shorts, a couple which are yellow, and one that is light blue, and one that is her preferred shade of bright pink. She’d like a navy blue, too, but there don’t appear to be any hanging around. C’est la vie. Ibuki walks up into the middle of the market and dumps her loot onto the floor before turning around and walking over to the vending machine. She fishes into her pocket and pulls out a few monocoins, which she’s glad she has on hand, because it’s the only currency the machine will take.

  
After a while of searching, Ibuki eventually comes across a sewing kit. She’d like a sewing machine, but there don’t appear to be any in there, so she just feeds her coins to the machine and heads back to her little pile with the kit in hand.

 

Ibuki sits down in front of the little mess that she’s made, cross legged, and thinks for a moment before cupping her hands around her mouth. “Usami!” She calls out, and feels a bit silly for a second when no one replies. “Ibuki has a question!”

 

Just as Ibuki thinks that maybe the robot is simply busy, the door to the supermarket opens, and Usami appears in the doorway, breathing heavily. “Uwaaaa, you’re up so early, Mioda!” The rabbit complains, and Ibuki beams at her, but doesn’t reply. No need to discuss why. She’s already shoved it to the back of her mind. “What is it?”

 

“Do you have a, uh, sewing machine I can borrow?” Ibuki holds up a pair of swim shorts. “I need a jacket.”

 

“Y-You’re making a jacket out of swim shorts?” Usami’s eyes widen. “You know they have jackets here that are already made, don’t you?”

 

“Ibuki thinks they’re boring.” Ibuki shrugs. “Besides, she hasn’t made anything in a while and she likes these colours a looooot more.” There’s a little bit more she’ll need to add to make it a real jacket, of course, like a zipper and cuffs on the sleeves and stuff, but she can decapitate some of her own clothes for that, and even the jackets here in the market. It’s getting her excited just thinking about it, honestly! She hasn’t sewn anything in a while!

 

Usami appraises her for a moment. “Well, okay.” The rabbit says eventually. “You can use my sewing machine because I don’t think there’s one in the vending machine. But be careful with it! It’ll be hard for be to get another one, ha wa wa…” she still gives Ibuki a parting smile as she slips out the door, and the musician smiles at the exit for a moment before opening the sewing kit and pulling out a tiny pair of scissors. She uses them to cut the stitches on all of the shorts, flattening them out into pieces of fabric. She especially likes the swim shorts because of the material they have on the inside; it’ll feel nice on her skin, later, when she’s wearing it as a jacket.

 

Even though Ibuki is pretty good at eyeballing clothes for herself, she still pulls out the ruler to cut pieces of fabric for the coat. She’d like the body of the jacket to be yellow, and the sleeves to be blue with pink cuffs. The hood can be pink too. She doesn’t wear a lot of yellow, so it might totally clash with the rest of her outfit, but as much as Ibuki is fashion-conscious, she also likes yellow. There might be some sneakers in here, and if there are, she can either find a banana yellow pair, like the pair of swim shorts she’s currently destroying, or get some paint and make them yellow. It’ll be great. She’s going to be a fashion icon.

 

Once she’s set out all the pieces for the coat, she starts placing pins. It’s nice, being busy like this, just focusing on her task. Each pin slides into place with little effort. She’s not even pricking herself, despite how quickly she’s putting them all into place. Ibuki has sort of forgotten how nice it is, to make her own clothes like this. She smiles to herself, shaking her ponytail out of her face as she starts to sew one of the sleeves together by hand. She could wait for the sewing machine and Usami, of course, but it’s sort of nice to do things by hand once in a while.

 

As Ibuki ties off the thread and cuts her needle free, the door to the supermarket slides open, and she looks up, expecting to see Usami back with her sewing machine. Instead, she makes eye contact with Hifumi (the fanfic creator, she reminds herself) who seems a bit startled to see her.

 

“Oh! Good morning, Miss Mioda!” Hifumi greets with a large smile, which Ibuki feels inclined to return as she wraps her thread back around the spool before turning the sleeve in the right way. “I see you have made yourself comfortable in the supermarket!”

 

“For sure!” Ibuki chirps, with an equal amount of enthusiasm. It’s pretty easy to muster. After sitting here and working for a while, it seems the shadows of her nightmares have begun to disappear. “Good nom-nom-nomming, Hifumi!” She adds, waving around her sleeve as though to accentuate her point. The fanfic creator nods at her, as though this is a perfectly normal way of greeting a person, and walks into the market, over towards the refrigerators. He’s likely going for the soda, which isn’t a very good way to start one’s morning, but Ibuki has never been one to judge.

 

“If I may ask,” Hifumi calls over his shoulder, and so as Ibuki threads her needle, she tilts her head to hear him better. “What is it that you are making so early in the morning?”   
  


“A coat!” Ibuki smiles to herself, putting her needle to the side and beginning to pin the other sleeve into place. “Ibuki’s been really cold recently and part of her wants to write a song about it but the other part of her thinks it would probably be cool if she made a coat first. Since her uniform has short sleeves.”

 

“I see, I see.” Comes Hifumi’s responding hum, and then he reemerges with a bottle of orange juice, and Ibuki feels a bit bad for assuming he was going for the sugar. Orange juice is a great breakfast thing! Though, there’s probably some in the restaurant, too, so he probably could’ve just gone there… unless breakfast isn’t ready yet, but she doesn’t see any reason for it not to be. “Juice?” He asks, and offers her a second bottle, which she did not notice he had.

 

Since he grabbed it for her, Ibuki puts her sleeve down for a second, reaching out and accepting it. It’s cool and wet underneath her fingers, the condensation coming off when she pulls her hand away. She’s half tempted to put it to her forehead, remembering that awful fever, but then she decides against it, thinking that Hifumi would probably be a little weirded out by that. “Thanks!” She beams, and twists off the cap at the same time as he does. Ibuki was pretty sure that Hifumi was a bit of a weirdo when she first met him, especially because he’s been hanging out with that weirdo Nagito all this time, but… maybe she was wrong on that front.

 

After a long drink of the juice, Hifumi clears his throat, looking a bit awkward. “So,” he pauses, and Ibuki thinks that his gaze is a bit strange, but not uncomfortable. “You don’t remember your time at Hope’s Peak, correct?”

 

“Nope!” Ibuki shakes her head, feeling her ponytail swish back and forth. “Just remember getting accepted. And then when Ibuki tried to go to the school, she just ended up in some weird classroom, before she ended up on this island! That’s all she remembers.” She shrugs. “Hifumi was a student there too, though, right?”

 

“I should still be,” Hifumi clarifies, rubbing the back of his neck. “This might be an odd thing to hear, so I apologise, but I… remember you, from my time as a student. Not well, as we weren’t necessarily close friends, but… you were my upperclassmen, Miss Mioda. You and Miss Maizono- who you are acquainted with, I’m sure- put on concerts sometimes, for our classes.”

 

“Hmmm, sounds awesome!” Ibuki grins. “Sayaka is so pretty Ibuki probably wouldn’t be able to focus performing with her!”

 

“A widely relatable statement, I’m sure,” Hifumi nods solemnly. “But while I remember you being my upperclassmen, I also remember you being… Ultimate Despair.” And suddenly Ibuki’s throat feels a bit dry, even though she’s not sure  _ why, _ because she doesn’t even remember that, being that- Ultimate Despair, thingy. Even though that’s what Nagito keeps calling them. “And I just wanted to tell you that I don’t-”

 

Before Hifumi can finish, there’s an explosion of noise from the monitor in the supermarket, and they both start, turning their heads to look for what’s causing it. On screen, it appears that people have gathered all outside of their cottages. They’re panicking, and for a minute Ibuki can’t tell why, but then-

 

A boy with red hair and a respectable amount of piercings from the other simulation asks,  _ “So… does that mean he stopped the moon from going around the Earth?”  _ before promptly getting slapped.

 

Ibuki doesn’t care about that, though. She’s more focused on the fact that the ground in the other simulation is mostly submerged in water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late motivation is hard bear with me please
> 
> more shit coming soon xd
> 
> i wanted to give hifumi more attention bc he's important


	14. Chapter 1 | VI: Are you propositioning me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nekomaru POV.

Rather than roll over and attempt to keep sleeping, when Nekomaru wakes up about half an hour before five, he slips out of bed, dresses, and then takes a seat outside of his cottage and watches the sun creep over the horizon.

 

If he closes his eyes for too long, he can still see the bright green of the grape house walls, burned into his eyelids. It’s such a different sight from what he’s facing now, the gentle pinks and oranges of the sky and the deep blue waves, bobbing up and down on the horizon. Nekomaru hasn’t fully processed what everyone has been saying about all that simulation stuff-- realistically he knows that it’s probably the only way he was able to be turned into a robot last time, but it seems… laughable.

 

He was trying to make the best of it, but… Nekomaru stretches out his hand, curling his fingers into a fist and looking at how the yellow light from the early-morning sun gives his skin a golden glow. It’s pleasantly cool this time of day, and he likes the way everything smells, especially. He wasn’t able to smell, back when he died in the simulation, and as a result almost all of his senses have been heightened since waking up again. It’s not a bad feeling, but Nekomaru wishes he felt comfortable enough to act as sentimental and quiet as he feels like being. He feels so strange actually knowing the sensation of wind on the back of his neck.

 

A good portion of his time before falling asleep was spent watching Gundham, who paced around his room for a while, muttering to his hamsters, before eventually crawling under the blankets. Nekomaru doesn’t doubt that it’s intentional on Monokuma’s part, showing him the person who killed him (in fact Nekomaru is sure that the same thing is happening to everyone else), but he doesn’t feel resentful towards the breeder. Quite the contrary, actually; he wishes more than anything that he could talk to the guy.

 

And not as he is now, having forgotten everything and everyone from their killing game, but… as he was when he was challenging Nekomaru to a fight. That was a brilliant move, pulling out the devas to go and find the power off button… Gundham knows his stuff. And he saved everyone too, if what Nagito recounted to everyone is to be believed, which means he was a man of his word. Not that Nekomaru would blame him if he  _ did  _ choose to try to save himself. He doubts he could feel angry at any of his classmates for what happened, even Teruteru. (Thinking about the end of that trial, when the cook was crying and begging for his mother… yeah, no.)

 

Actually, he’d like to talk to pretty much anyone who knew him as a robot. Chiaki or Hajime comes to mind, or Kazuichi, they got along well, and Akane… she’s the one, Nekomaru supposes, who he’d like to see the most. Kiibo seemed pretty adamant before when he was talking about how the three of his friends who aren’t in either simulation are dead, and of course things are probably the  _ most  _ uncertain when it comes down to Hifumi and Chihiro’s friends, but… what about Akane? What about everyone else who isn’t accounted for, all five of them? Where are they now? Are they okay?

 

Idly, unblinkingly, Nekomaru watches the door to Ibuki’s cottage open and close. The musician speeds off past the restaurant. She appears to be in something of a hurry, and Nekomaru considers asking her why she’s awake so early, but decides against it. After her death in the other simulation, she probably doesn’t have it easy, huh?

 

It isn’t long after Ibuki wakes up that the door to one of the other cottages opens; but this time, the person who steps out sees him, and pauses, looking a bit surprised.

 

“Oh, uhh, Nidai, right?” Miu asks, and then puts a hand on her door. She seems a bit nervous, which makes sense. Nekomaru had her pegged as a bit of a flighty person. She’s fully dressed, and seems wide awake-- though whether that’s because she woke up recently and got ready or because she wasn’t able to sleep very well in the first place, he couldn’t say. “I wasn’t expecting, uh, anyone else to be awake right now.” She admits, after Nekomaru nods.

 

“We aren’t the only ones!” He tells her with a smile. “Mioda hurried off at some point too, but she seemed like she was in a hurry, so she must be busy with something.” In truth, he thinks it’s a bit more complicated than that, though he’s not going to think  _ too  _ hard on it for the sake of respecting Ibuki’s privacy. He thinks it’s more than likely that he’s not the only person on this island who’s having trouble staying asleep for longer than a few hours. Ibuki is like a ray of sunshine in so many ways, and he hopes that whatever is ailing her, she finds the support to work through it. But he shouldn’t say anything else to Miu. “But good morning, Iruma! How was your rest?”   
  


Miu shoots him a glare, warily exiting her cabin all the way, and he notices before she turns her head that her eyes are rimmed with red, as though she hasn’t really been  _ resting  _ at all. He’s half expecting her to lie, but then she sighs, her shoulders deflating, and says, “Shitty.” The way she tosses a sheet of blond waves over her shoulder is a bit haughty, but the exaggerated superiority isn’t enough to stop Miu from slowly dropping down to sit beside him. “But whatever, it’s a waste of time sleeping anyway when I could be using this brilliant mind to make stuff.” She pauses, as though she’s feeling unsteady, and then adds, “Uh, yours?”

 

Nekomaru appreciates the reciprocation. “It could have been better,” he replies honestly. Perhaps her being honest with him first is what made him want to tell her the truth about how he slept, despite the fact that he’d usually try to keep those kinds of things to himself. “I think the issue is that I didn’t take a big enough shit before bed, though,” he muses, more to himself than to Miu. “Nothing gets me to sleep better than a good ol’ dump, y’know?”

 

“...I do know, actually,” Miu says with slightly wide eyes. It’s the first time Nekomaru has gotten anything other than shocked repulsion in response to his comments about crapping (not that he cares all that much, as it’s a perfectly normal bodily function and he’ll talk about it as he damn pleases) and he can’t help doing a double take, just as the inventor did just now, when she responds. “It’s a good fuckin’ feeling! The only thing I can think of that might be better is afterglow!”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Nekomaru grins. Miu is crass, but that doesn’t bother him so much. She should say what’s on her mind! Open communication is essential for healthy relationships! She should probably be a bit more wary of making other people uncomfortable, of course, but since it’s just the two of them right now, Nekomaru doesn’t see a problem with it. “That reminds me, you haven’t had an opportunity to do  _ it  _ yet, have you?”

 

Snorting, Miu asks, “Are you  _ propositioning  _ me, Nidai? You’re gonna have to try a bit harder to get into these pants!” Under her breath, she adds, “But only a little bit harder,” and Nekomaru decides to pretend he didn’t hear it.

 

“No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” he waves one of his hands dismissively. “I was talking about--”

 

Before Nekomaru can tell Miu that he was talking about giving her a massage, not, like,  _ sex,  _ (because Miu is pretty but Nekomaru is what one might call a flaming homosexual) the monitors in front of all of their cottages seem to burst with sound. Nekomaru turns toward the one right next to him with a start, frowning. On screen, it appears that most of the island is submerged in a shallow layer of water. The blackeneds in the other simulation are freaking out.

 

Nekomaru looks down at his own sandals, wiggling his toes. No water there. It’s just as dry here as it’s always been. Miu seems to be watching the monitor in horror; she doesn’t even spare him a passing look.

 

Byakuya exits his cottage, a sour look on his face as he pushes up his glasses. “Is there really a need for them to make that infernal racket?” He asks, irate. Nekomaru raises his eyebrows but doesn’t reply. Of course there is. If the ocean here was rising at such an alarming rate, he’s not entirely certain that he wouldn’t be screaming too. Other cottage doors swing open, revealing the other inhabitants of the island in varying levels of disarray. Only Ibuki, Hifumi, and Ryoma don’t emerge-- Ibuki because she’s already off at the supermarket, but as for the other two… Nekomaru has no way of knowing.

 

“Yikes, Momota’s an idiot,” Kokichi remarks cooly, as a boy with purple hair on screen begins theorising about Monokuma moving the moon.

 

“I-- I don’t know if I would go that far,” says Chihiro, frowning over at Kokichi, “but he’s definitely wrong.”

 

“Uh, we are in a simulation, though, right?” Tenko asks, tilting her head to the side. “Technically Monokuma  _ could  _ move the moon?”

 

“Maybe, but the position value of the moon would have to have actually been, uhm, assigned to the tide values? And the Neo-World Program is complex, b-but I don’t think it’s  _ that  _ in-depth. The moon is just, like, an image for us to look at. A projection, if you will. It changes shape based on the night like the regular moon would, for sure, but I don’t think it really affects the tides.” She fidgets with the ribbon around her collar. Nekomaru notes that she isn’t wearing her jacket. She must have gotten up just recently. “I think what’s more likely is that Monokuma messed with the numbers of the, uhm, ocean.”

 

“Is that possible?” Kiyotaka sounds startled. “To just-- change the ocean?”

 

“Of course it’s possible, twink-ass.” Miu scoffs, rolling her eyes. “We’re in a virtual world! And Dyke McGee over there just asked if the moon could be moved. Since we can actually  _ interact  _ with the ocean beyond staring at the damn thing, it’s more easy to just change the ocean.”

 

“You shouldn’t use homophobic language like that, Miu,” Mahiru says, blinking tiredly. Nekomaru silently praises her for her moral compass, even before the morning announcement has gone off.

 

“Has anybody seen Mioda?” Kiibo asks quietly. He’s looking around in concern.

 

“She took off towards the supermarket,” Nekomaru replies, since he saw her leaving her cottage before. He points in that direction, but as he does so, he notices that Ibuki is coming back. She’s accompanied by Hifumi, it seems, for nobody else (aside from Byakuya, but Byakuya is right here) has Hifumi’s considerable bulk, and the two of them appear to be chatting. When Ibuki notices them, she jumps up a little and waves a hand over her head. “There she is,” Nekomaru adds arbitrarily; everyone else is bound to have noticed the two by now.

 

“Hoshi isn’t here either,” Mahiru frowns.

 

“He’s probably being sad and depressed in his room!” Hiyoko states loudly. Mahiru shoots her a sad look. “What’s that sulky face? He totally has emo vibes!”

 

“You’re right,” Kokichi nods. “He had Saihara beat in that area, y’know?”

 

“I’m gonna pretend like I know who that is,” Hiyoko nods as well.

 

“Didn’t you figure out some way to turn down the volume on those things, Iruma?” Mukuro asks, holding her temple and looking as though she has a considerable headache forming. “Tsumiki’s high pitched screaming is going to give me a migraine.”

 

“I’d have to do ‘em one by one,” Miu puts her hands on her hips. “So if you wanna go somewhere quiet, you’d better tell me where you’re plannin’ on secluding yourself so I can turn down the volume for you. Of course, if you’re gonna go finger-fuck yourself somewhere, maybe the monitors will make good background n--”

 

“That is  _ absolutely  _ not what I’m planning on doing,” Mukuro interrupts.

 

“Heeee! Okay! I get you’re like, the Ultimate Soldier, or whatever, but you don’t have to make that scary face!”

 

“Hi hi hi hi!” Ibuki sings as she and Hifumi reach the group. She takes a large gulp from the orange juice bottle in her hand and grins around at everybody. Nekomaru looks at her for a moment. Huh. She looked downright scattered earlier, but right now she seems more composed. Is that on Hifumi’s account, or did she gather her wits before seeing him? Regardless of which one it is, perhaps Nekomaru shouldn’t judge Hifumi too harshly for his anime references. “Anyone else in the mood for sushi?”

 

“I am always in the mood for sushi,” Byakuya concurs, very seriously.

 

“Can we, uhm,” Mahiru gestures vaguely with her hands, before the two of them can start talking about their love of sushi, which, Nekomaru definitely wouldn’t put it past them. “Can we talk about what’s going on, like, over there?” She points at a monitor, where all the students appear to have crowded around one of the cottages. Teruteru’s, Nekomaru suspects, based on the absences in the group. “Because it feels like something we shouldn’t just look past.”

 

Angie tilts her head to the side, smiling. “Well, what would you have us talk about, Mahiru?”

 

“I-- I dunno, just--”

 

“Because it seems to Angie like there is nothing that we can do! Nope, nothing at all! And,” she pauses, tilting her head in the other direction, as though listening hard to the sky. “Yup yup yup! God agrees. We are absolutely helpless. We must hope that either Monokuma gets bored of this silly game of his, or someone else does first.”

 

“Someone else does first?” Sayaka frowns at Angie, folding her arms across her chest. “Y-You don’t mean…”

 

“Why should it matter, hm? It’s just a simulation, after all.” Angie shrugs. “No difference in the world!”

 

“Yonaga is like, totes correct and all,” Kokichi starts. “They’re all murderers anyway and it’s not like their actions will matter, but like, also? Would be totally lame and boring if someone committed murder because of a motive like  _ this.  _ Lazy and boring and suuuuper duper annoying! I mean, it’s pretty much another time limit thing. As if we haven’t all seen those before. You’re running out of material, Monokuma!”

 

“Geez, way to call a guy out,” Monokuma appears before them, hanging its head. “You’re as cruel as ever, Ouma… wah wah wahh…”

 

“Since you’re here, Monokuma,” Nagito speaks up for the first time, smiling placidly at the bear. “May I ask a question?”

 

“Of course! I’m always happy to take inquiries from my adoring students!” Monokuma chirps, looking as though it would honestly rather die before answering Nagito’s question.

 

Seemingly oblivious to this, Nagito plows on. “What happens if they  _ don’t  _ commit murder? You can’t just kill all of them, can you? That wouldn’t cause enough despair. If anything it would only boost  _ our  _ morale, since they’ll have died standing up against you. But if you pull away the motive at the last minute, it’ll show them that their actions don’t really have consequences.”

 

“Upupupupu, an excellent question, Komaeda, as always,” Monokuma giggles, covering one past of its toothy grin with a paw. “But I personally believe that someone  _ will  _ be committing a murder. And soon.”

 

“That’s not an answer,” Nagito points out.

 

“Ugh! You’re so annoying! Who knows what I’ll do! Maybe I’ll just execute them all for being impertinent little shits!” Monokuma snaps. “Who’d be able to stop me from bringing them back all over again and finding some other motive?”

 

With that, Monokuma spins on its heel and disappears. There is a brief, tense moment of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of people speaking on the monitor. The voices quiet down after a while, though, perhaps because the initial shock of waking up and seeing all the water has faded a bit.

 

“It was a good question,” Rantaro says quietly.

 

“I appreciate that,” Nagito replies, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“It’s not even seven yet,” Sayaka remarks, pulling out her student handbook and frowning down at it. “Breakfast won’t be ready for a while.”

 

“I’m sure everyone here is capable of finding something to do,” Byakuya says firmly. “We should take some time to ourselves to absorb the information that we’ve all received.”

 

Nekomaru thinks that’s a pretty good call. He spaces out a bit as the group disperses, some people disappearing back into their cabins and others walking off towards the Central Island, though what it is they’re going to do, Nekomaru can’t be sure. Only he and Miu remain after a while. When Nekomaru looks over at her, her gaze is still fixed on the monitor, a crease between her eyebrows.

 

Tentatively, Nekomaru asks, “Alright, there?”

 

“Do you think they really  _ won’t  _ give in to the motive?” Miu asks quickly, looking over at him. Her expression is a bit panicky. “Like, do you think there’s a good chance that they’ll just sit there and let the water level rise?”

 

“I--” Nekomaru isn’t sure what to say. “I think it’s worth believing in them, but we can’t know for  _ sure _ until--”

 

“Well, I hope they do give in.” Miu glares at the screen again. “I hope someone commits a sloppy ass murder and gets put out of their fuckin’ misery so that all of this can be over. The longer this shit goes on, the more likely it is that that dumbass Gonta will do somethin’ stupid and sacrifice himself for everyone else.” She huffs out another curse under her breath, wiping at her eyes. “I would lose it if Monokuma executed all of them and then just brought them back. I mean it, I really think I’d just-- kill myself, or somethin’.”

 

Nekomaru bites his lip. He doesn’t know who Gonta is, but he must be important to Miu, if she’s so upset about it. He reaches out and pats her on the head, flattening down the blonde strands that stick up from the crown. “It’ll turn out okay,” he says quietly. “Maybe not in the way that we’d all like, but in the end I think everything will be fine.” He pauses. Miu doesn’t bat his hand away, like he’s expecting her to, which is appreciated. “If you care this much about this guy, then he must be good.”

 

“Yeah.” Miu scoffs. “Dumbass.” She shakes her head. “You’re right, I’m just bein’ stupid. It’ll be fine.” She rubs one of her arms for a moment, and then grins up at Nekomaru. It seems a bit strained, but he decides not to comment, for her pride’s sake. “Now, what was that  _ it  _ you were talking about earlier?”

 

“Y’know, I’m really glad you asked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this is late sorry sucks to suck i have more chapters to do but i'll do them in time okay anyway gotta run i'm in a hurry


	15. Chapter 1 | VII: People only see what they want to see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoma POV.

From the moment that Ryoma enters his cottage, his monitor shifts to show Kirumi slipping inside of hers to get ready for the night. He gives the monitor a long, tired look, as though to ask Monokuma,  _ are you fucking serious?  _ But the feed doesn’t change, and he has to resort to summoning Usami into his room and asking her for a pair of ear plugs, as well as an eye mask, because genuinely? Ryoma wouldn’t want to watch Kirumi sleeping as a matter of principle-- something about, y’know, him being a dude, and her being  _ not that  _ makes it just feel weird and oddly depraved-- but the fact that Kirumi is the one who killed him doesn’t help matters any.

 

Of course, Monokuma is showing him the feed from Kirumi’s cottage specifically on purpose. He’s willing to bet actual money that the rest of the people on this island are seeing something similar. Monokuma wouldn’t do it if it didn’t think there was a chance of it messing with their heads.

 

For extra measure, when Ryoma shrugs off his jacket, he scales the wall underneath the monitor and drapes it over the damn thing. Kirumi can have her privacy, please and thank you.

 

Ryoma takes a while falling asleep. What a weird motive.  _ Global warming. _ It was something he was really stressed out about, once upon a time. Back when he had a family and friends who he cared about having futures. That’s not a reality for him anymore, and hasn’t been for a while, and since he himself doesn’t have much of a future either… well, whatever. Whatever Monokuma is doing probably isn’t the result of carbon dioxide emissions and the rise of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere. What Monokuma is doing is twisted and unnatural, intended to make them commit a murder.

 

And that hope talk that Nagito and Chihiro and the others got up to their first night here, when Monokuma first showed them all the blackeneds engaging on those monitors, that was all good and well. Good team-building exercise. But admittedly, Ryoma doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in that.

 

How are they going to stand up to a motive like global warming? It’s just going to keep getting worse. The sea level rising will be a visible stressor, an obvious one; they’ll have some very real concerns about drowning soon enough. But the real stroke of brilliance, on Monokuma’s part, is the temperature. They won’t notice it right away. It’ll just keep crawling upwards, pressing in on them from all sides and progressively driving them mad. And depending on how quickly the ocean level is rising, they’ll only have so long to pretend that nothing is happening.

 

(Besides all of that… wasn’t it a time limit motive that got Kaede to crack in the first place? Ryoma believes in Kaede’s goodwill, but… if she did it the first time, and doesn’t have any memories of it now… what’s to stop her from doing it again?)   
  


He drifts asleep eventually, soothed by the pitch blackness from his eye mask and the buzzing silence brought by the ear plugs. Ryoma doesn’t dream, but that’s not so abnormal for him. He never dreamt in prison, either. There was nothing for him to dream about. He had plenty of time during the day to relive what happened to everyone he cared about. And there was nothing  _ positive  _ for him to look forward to, either.

 

Maybe he does dream, and he just has an inability to remember it upon waking up. Whatever the case is, when Ryoma eventually wakes up, he’s struck with a serious concern that he went both blind and deaf during the night until he feels the material of the eye mask against the bridge of his nose and remembers that he was trying to be decent.

 

Ryoma sits up, pulls out one of his earplugs and tugs off the sleeping mask, and his gaze flies straight to the monitor, which is uncovered. It’s showing the outside of the island now, focusing currently on Jabberwock Park, where the statue is partially submerged in water, but what catches Ryoma’s attention is the fact that his jacket his crumpled in a heap on the floor of his cottage. Also, there’s a piece of notebook paper taped to the bottom of the monitor with the word  _ COWARD  _ written on it in red ink.

 

Snorting, Ryoma decides to just leave it there. Fair enough, Monokuma. Fair enough.

 

He slept longer today, according to his student handbook, which says that it’s half past eight. Hell, he’s even slept in past the morning announcement. And likely the panic from the students in the other simulation that most definitely occurred upon realising how much water there is everywhere now. Ryoma casts a sad look upon the monitor as he pulls on his jacket, buttoning it up again and stepping into his shoes. He almost forgets to grab his hat, but snags it on the way out his door.

 

“Oh! Sorry,” Sayaka apologises, and Ryoma blanches. She was sitting right outside his cottage door, her legs crossed and her head resting against the wall. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she offers a quick smile, scrambling to her feet. “I was wondering when you’d wake up!”

 

“You were, were you?” Ryoma asks, unable to stop a small smile from twitching onto his face. He stifles it quickly when Sayaka notices and beams; she has no business having such a nice smile so early in the morning. (Well, really it’s not all  _ that  _ early. They were both up way earlier than this yesterday. Still, though, still.) “What’s up?” he adds, clearing his throat to try to distract from his mild embarrassment.

 

“Everyone got up at around half past six,” Sayaka explains, lacing her hands together in front of her. “The people in the other simulation were being really loud, you know?” Ryoma notes her lack of use of the term  _ blackened.  _ He has to wonder about it just a bit, but decides not to pay it any unnecessary attention. “But you weren’t there, I was a bit worried. I knocked for a while but you didn’t answer, and my handbook said you were in your cottage, so… I waited.”

 

Ryoma grunts. “Earplugs. Didn’t want to spend the night listening to Toujo snore, y’know?” Bit of an unfair statement. Kirumi likely doesn’t snore. Sayaka laughs anyway, even though she definitely doesn’t know who Kirumi is.

 

“Your monitor was focusing on someone specific too, huh?” She frowns, and slowly sinks back down to sit. Ryoma doesn’t see much of a reason not to sit beside her, so he follows suit, popping a candy cigarette into his mouth to kill his morning breath. “Kuwata-- that’s who mine was focusing on, he’s got red hair--” Ryoma remembers that name, and thinks with a mild rush of satisfaction that he was correct. Kuwata is the one who killed Sayaka. “--he actually talks in his sleep. It was really difficult to catch even a wink,” after letting out a laugh, Sayaka seems to sober up a bit, staring off towards the pool. “I suppose I can’t blame him for being restless, though, huh?”

 

“You definitely seem like you didn’t get a very good rest,” Ryoma remarks, gesturing towards the bags under her eyes. Sayaka’s upper lip curls when she glances at him. “You might want to ask Usami for a pair of plugs yourself, kid. Don’t wanna look all tuckered out.”

 

“Mm. I don’t know if it would help.” Sayaka folds her legs into her chest, rests her chin on her knees. She drums her fingers on the pavement beside her. She’s got good rhythm, Ryoma notes. “I think I’d be sleeping pretty terribly regardless.”

 

There’s a moment of silence. Ryoma offers her a candy cigarette.

 

Sayaka smiles wryly but accepts one. “You’re a real hero with these things, what’ll happen when you run out?”

 

“I won’t,” Ryoma replies distantly. At that, Sayaka actually lets out a laugh, covering her mouth with one of her hands, the other still holding the cigarette. From the look on her face, that was a real laugh, not just the fill-the-blanks chuckle that she seems to give from time to time. Ryoma offers her another half-smile, and Sayaka regards him steadily as she puts the candy in her mouth.

 

“Jeez, I was supposed to be checking on you, not the other way around,” Sayaka mutters, though the impact of her words is admittedly a bit killed by her smile. Ryoma bumps her with his shoulder.

 

“Believe me, you’ve helped me plenty just by chatting,” he tells her, and when he gets up to leave, he surprises himself with the realisation that he’s being genuine. Sayaka gives him another lopsided smile as he walks away, and as he turns the corner, it occurs to him that he doesn’t  _ really  _ know where he’s going. He kind of just took off in a random direction.

 

Ryoma shifts his candy cigarette to the other side of his mouth. Maybe the airport. He hasn’t actually been many places here yet. He slides his handbook from his pocket and takes a peek. Seems like it’s just that Nagito guy hanging out there. Maybe not. Nagito’s a bit of a headache in an entirely different way from Kokichi. At least with Kokichi, Ryoma has the reassurance that he’s  _ probably  _ lying when he pulls any kind of bullshit. With Nagito, thus far all the things he’s said have seemed to be entirely genuine. He considers the supermarket for a split second, but notes that Angie and Ibuki are in there, so--

 

The airport it is. Ibuki seems pleasant enough, but she’s so high energy, and Angie? Nope, not this morning. Ryoma’s feeling kind of decently well-rested for once. He doesn’t need to fend off any conversations about God. Nagito can’t be  _ that  _ bad.

 

Not like Ryoma’s an airport connoisseur or anything, but he’s been to a couple. That was sort of the nature of his talent, back when he deserved it. Usually they were domestic flights, going around Japan for tennis competitions up north and then later down south, too. But he played in Europe a few times. (And America. But he’s trying not to think about America right now, if he can help it. Or ever. His old apartment has long since been sold, his belongings all packed up in boxes that are now collecting dust in a storage facility, but Ryoma still remembers the picture of his girlfriend that used to sit on his dresser. She never looked directly at cameras; always glancing off to the side with her tongue between her teeth. He really… misses her.)

 

Anyway, this airport is… pretty standard. Since this is a simulation, Ryoma doesn’t see any real reason for the planes here to be functional. There is a tall floor to ceiling window overlooking the actual port and a luggage carrier off to his right. The floor is really shiny, too. Ryoma scuffs his shoe on it as he looks around, wondering if Nagito is actually here, or if his student handbook was glitching. After a moment, he spots the guy, sitting underneath one of the plastic trees that’s in here as decoration. Nagito doesn’t appear to have noticed him yet; his legs are crossed tailor style and he’s looking down at his student handbook, but since Ryoma doesn’t feel all that inclined to try and startle him-- it’s not his favourite thing-- he clears his throat.

 

Nagito’s eyes are grey. A very clear, pale grey, in fact. Almost like water. Ryoma watches a smile spread across his face, and he raises a hand to wave, and… well, Ryoma’s made his bed. Now he’s going to lie in it, even if this is going to be a mistake. He tugs his hat down over his eyes and makes his way over.

 

“Hello, Hoshi,” Nagito greets. His smile is very easy to hear in his tone. If not for that unnerving coldness he demonstrates when interacting with the people who were in his killing game, Ryoma would think that he’s just a typical friendly guy. He has a similar countenance to Rantaro, really. Laid-back and quick to smile. Nagito’s smiles touch his eyes, though. “What brings you to the airport?”

 

“Nothing in particular,” Ryoma grunts, decisively seating himself on the bench across the way from Nagito. They’re close enough to hear each other without having to shout (the airport is empty, after all) but Ryoma doesn’t have to be sitting right next to him, in front of the very same plant. That’s definitely for the best. “Haven’t been here yet, so I thought I’d pop by. You’ve probably been here a  _ few  _ times already, haven’t you?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Nagito nods. “Since Jabberwock is where my killing game took place. It’s strange to call it that, isn’t it?” Ryoma assumes that he’s referring to the use of a possessive in regards to the killing game. He hums. “I knew there was a killing game before the one that I was in, of course, but it’s something to thing about. Everyone here has been in a killing game before. And everyone in the other simulation, too, though they don’t remember that. It’s almost a shame. The fact that they lost their memories sort of means that any hope that they find won’t be to its fullest potential.”

 

“You talk about hope like it’s a tangible thing,” Ryoma remarks, and this is definitely not a conversation that he wants to have but he can’t help commenting on it. Nagito gives him a polite little eyebrow raise and says nothing, waiting for him to continue. “As opposed to a vague concept that allows people the strength to keep going. This fascination with hope and despair… they didn’t have that in my killing game. Or-- maybe they did,” Ryoma recalls Kiibo’s adamance when he was saying that Shuichi  _ put an end to the hope and despair nonsense.  _ “But that was after I died.”

 

“Hm,” Nagito draws his knees into his chest, his expression becoming contemplative. “I imagine that that has something to do with… and this is just speculation from a piece of trash, so you don’t have to take me seriously if I’m wrong, but… your mastermind. Shirogane was the mastermind of your killing game, wasn’t she?”

 

“Apparently,” Ryoma mutters.

 

“Well, in the past, we’ve had to face off against Junko Enoshima. The epitome of despair.” Nagito’s eyes are clouded with something that Ryoma can’t quite read. Disgust, perhaps. He’s heard the name  _ Junko Enoshima  _ before. Supposedly, she (and the people from Nagito’s killing game…?) was responsible for the Tragedy. Whatever the Tragedy was. Ryoma hasn’t been paying enough attention to everything that people have been discussing, clearly. “Your mastermind was… different, though. Someone who admires Enoshima, obviously-- though I don’t understand  _ why--”  _ he scowls. “But not  _ her.  _ So maybe Shirogane cared less about hope and despair until the end.”

 

Ryoma is still having a difficult time reconciling his image of Tsumugi, the sweet, slightly self-deprecating girl that he knew in the simulation, with the mastermind who put them through all of that. She’s no older than the rest of them, and he didn’t know her for very long, but Tsumugi always seemed… kind. Distant at times, and maybe blind to a few social conventions, but  _ kind  _ nonetheless. And the Tsumugi he’s been seeing now, she’s so… reclusive. She makes the occasional commentary, but otherwise she keeps to herself. It isn’t as though everyone else is particularly eager to make friends, of course, but it’s just, jarring, that’s all. It feels like only a couple days ago Tsumugi was completely different.

 

“Were you friends with her?” Nagito asks quietly. Ryoma jumps, remembering where he is, and meets Nagito’s apologetic expression. “Sorry, I knew you were thinking and I didn’t want to interrupt that, but you seemed disconcerted. You don’t have to answer me.”

 

“No, it’s… fine,” Ryoma says after a moment. For some reason Nagito’s deprecation is making him feel almost guilty. He’s… weird. A weird guy. “We weren’t especially close,” Ryoma wasn’t close to anybody, in his killing game, “but I thought I had some idea of who she was, yeah. The way she’s acting now is… like a completely different person.”

 

“People can be like that. They’re never as predictable as they’re made out sometimes.” Nagito smiles. “You think that you know somebody but then they turn around and reveal themselves to be a total stranger. I hear that I’m that way, though in my personal experience I try to tell the full truth as often as I can. Unless I need to lie, for any reason. People only see what they want to see. Ah, but, I’m not saying that Shirogane wasn’t deceiving you and everyone else-- that’s a little bit different, I think I just went on a tangent, which you don’t need to hear from--”

 

“If you say  _ garbage like me _ again,” Ryoma interrupts. “I’m going to… well, I dunno. But you gotta stop putting yourself down like that, kid. You have good insight when you’re not constantly invalidating it.”

 

Nagito gives him a quiet, measured look, and then breaks into a smile. “You could stand to learn from yourself a little.”

 

“Sure,” Ryoma chuckles. Maybe he shouldn’t be so judgemental of Nagito right away. It’s obvious that there’s a lot he needs to understand about the guy. “Seems like we’ve both got a long ways to go, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops
> 
> i'm still behind :pensive: STOP POSTING CHAPTERS BRO IMA KILL U

**Author's Note:**

> hello! please read Game of the Blackened by birdn4t0r (the first story in this series) to get the full enjoyment out of this story!
> 
> comments are always appreciated, and please feel free to ask questions or share concerns if they come up, I'm happy to help.
> 
> thanks for reading, you're beautiful, have an excellent day!


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